Lips of an Angel
by Ashita polar
Summary: A series of Drarry, song-based one-shots. Includes fics based on Lips of an Angel by Hinder, Just the Way You Look Tonight by Tony Bennett, Sleep Together by Garbage, Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, Run by Snow Patrol and more.
1. Lips of an Angel

**Title: **Lips of Angel

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Words:** 5300

**Rating: **Teen

**Warnings: **Very mild angst; more flangst actually.

**Summary: **Harry and Draco have broken up, but neither have moved on.

**Author's Notes: **The first in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes that were a birthday gift and stocking stuffers for my lovely beta Whimsicality. She chose the pairing and the song idea. This first ficlet is based on Lips of an Angel by Hinder.

* * *

**Lips of an Angel**

Harry stared at the phone in his hand as if it were going to bite him, his disbelief palpable as he flicked a nervous glance toward the man sitting obliviously on his couch, waiting for him to come back for their post date drink, and perhaps more. But Harry would recognize this tone anywhere – it had the same impatient, imperious tone as the owner it had been assigned to. He'd been vastly amused all those blissful months ago when he had chosen it for Draco; but he never dreamed that he'd be hearing it again given their last meeting, when Draco had told him that he couldn't deal with dating him any longer.

"Everything all right there, Harry?" a low masculine voice cut into Harry's haze and made the brunet flush uncomfortably as Oliver arched a brow at the trilling phone.

"Yeah," Harry replied, inhaling sharply as he held up the device and made a split second decision, guilt eating at his gut as he walked out of the room, missing knowing eyes. "I just...need to take this. Be right back."

Licking his lips nervously, he shut the door part way and hit the send button, bringing the receiver to his mouth as he managed to intone a fairly even salutation.

"Hello," he greeted, his heart thudding in his ears as there was a slight pause on the other side before the voice that had always made him weak in the knees came across the line.

"Hey," Draco greeted hesitantly, his voice sounding tinny and hollow, partially due to the new technology, partially something else that Harry couldn't place his finger on. Or perhaps it was just that he didn't want to identify it and raise his hopes up after months of silence.

"Hey" he greeted lamely, uncertain as to what to say and then rolled his eyes, smacking himself across the head as he quickly followed it with something he hoped was reasonably coherent. "How are you?"

Okay, well, not that coherent, but one could hardly fault his slow reaction time given his stunned senses. Draco and he had argued viciously about the media cover of their relationship last they talked and Draco had been incensed at what he perceived as Harry's lack of response to the melee. Little did he know that Harry had tried repeatedly to dissuade the accusations and frenzy in the beginning, but it had only made the stories much more vicious and damaging until he finally gave up. It was a fight he was destined to lose because no matter how many years had passed since Voldemort's fall, people were still more interested in scandal and lies than the truth.

When Draco had left that day, he'd told Harry that they were over and he never wanted to see or speak to Harry again. Harry had been devastated, but reluctantly acquiesced to the blonde's desires because he had seen how distressed the coverage had left his lover, and above all else, he wanted Draco to be happy. Which is why this call had left him reeling.

"Draco, is everything okay?" Harry prompted quietly when the silence had grown on the other end and he detected a slight hitch in the other man's breathing.

"Yeah, sorry." Draco apologized swiftly, drawing a deep breath."I just..."

"Yeah?" Harry prompted again, growing concerned when the blonde trailed off.

"I didn't expect you to actually pick up," Draco admitted quietly, making Harry wince; it had taken him a while to answer, but only due to surprise, not out of reluctance. "You know, when you saw it was me. And...it's just good to hear your voice."

"It's good to hear from you too," Harry replied, swallowing thickly around the lump forming in the back of his throat. He'd never realized just how much he had missed the sound of Draco's voice until that moment.

Sitting down heavily onto his bed, his head spun dizzily at the realization and guilt welled up once more; he had someone in the other room waiting for him to continue their date and he was here, talking to his ex-boyfriend, listening to the heavy breath on the other end and desperately wishing he were the one in the next room. He was so fucked. Swiping a had over his face, he hung his head wearily; he had thought he had gotten over this over in the past six months, but all it took was one call and a handful of words to set him back to a time and place he had tried to put behind him.

"Not meaning to sound rude or anything," Harry rasped gently, clearing his throat in the reigning silence. "But was there something you wanted? Only, its kinda late and you...you don't sound so great."

"I just..." Draco's voice wavered, and he took a shaky breath before he pushed on with an odd question. "Is Oliver there?"

"Er...yeah," Harry responded, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion and his tone lilting into a faint question at the end. "He's in the other room?"

"Oh," Draco said softly, the disappointment in his tone noticeable. "I probably shouldn't have called. You're busy and..."

"No!" Harry interrupted quickly, fear snaking down his spine and pooling into a leaden weight in his stomach as he sensed Draco's withdrawal. He had been surprised to hear from his former lover, but now that he had him on the line, he didn't want the call to end. "Wait, please."

Harry stood up, looking around his room frantically as he tried to come up with a plausible reason to keep Draco talking and thankful that, despite the silence that had fallen once more on the other end, he could still hear Draco's soft, even breaths, letting him know he was holding the line.

"Let me..." Harry trailed off; let him what? Just go kick out his date and then they could pick up where they left off? What the hell was he doing? "Let me just ask him if...let me just see him out and we can talk, yeah? If you like?"

There was another small pause and Harry bit his lip, running an agitated hand through his hair as he closed his eyes and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. He'd promised himself he wouldn't go here again. It had taken him months before he ventured out of his house socially, and even then, he'd only accepted the date with Oliver to get Hermione off his back and because Oliver knew from the very beginning it wouldn't go anywhere.

And not even five minutes of stilted conversation later, he was shunting a prospective date aside for the blond that, albeit unknowingly, left him broken and bleeding.

"Yeah," Draco replied quietly. "I'd like that a lot."

Clenching his fist, Harry tried to ignore the way those words made his heart lurch and his stomach flutter. Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and nodded, forgetting that the other man couldn't see the reflexive gesture before verbally confirming the request.

"Okay, um..." Harry responded in kind, darting a regretful glance toward the door. "Give me five minutes. Do you want to hold on or would you prefer I call you back?"

"Can I just come over?" Draco requested out of the blue, making Harry's heart stutter and then triple erratically, his knees going weak at the vulnerability in that voice. An emotion he knew Draco did not display well. "I hate these bloody devices."

Harry smiled at the last comment, a soft chuckle spilling over his lips before he could halt it. He remembered all too well what a struggle it had been to get the other man to acquiesce to the 'phone' and Draco had complained about the devices, the magical equivalent of a muggle cell phone, constantly and had only relinquished his stance to please Harry, who worried about him when he had to be out late for a case. There had been many such upgrades to the wizarding world that mimicked muggle technology, but few wizards had grown comfortable with them, preferring the time honored methods of communication instead.

"Um...sure," he replied hesitantly at first, but firming his resolve as he continued. "Sure. Just give me ten minutes. The floo will be open."

"Okay," Draco said and Harry could almost hear him chewing on his bottom lip nervously as he paused and then whispered. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry's lashes fluttered shut, a sweet ache suffusing his heart at hearing his name fall from those lips. No one had ever said his name quite like Draco.

"I'll see you in a few," he acknowledged huskily, holding the line until he heard the telltale chime of it closing and then dropped his hand, pressing the other to his eyes as he drew a shaky breath and prayed he wasn't setting himself up for more heartbreak.

* * *

Harry stared at the fire nervously, his hands fidgeting slightly as he rubbed his palms together and counted down the last couple of minutes before Draco's arrival. He had felt bad about shooing Oliver out the door with what _even he_ could see was a weak excuse about needing to get to bed early as he had a full day tomorrow; but he did it nonetheless. Pressing his head into his hands for a moment, he couldn't help wondering for the dozenth time since they'd hung up if he was doing the smart thing; but, then again, when had he ever followed the wise path? He was more prone to recklessly following his heart than listening to the very real and sound objections in his head.

So he'd cleaned up the glasses from his and Oliver's after dinner drink and pulled out the bottle of brandy he'd bought six months ago, but had never opened because it had been Draco's favorite and brought back too many memories of nights spent by the fire laughing, talking and loving. He vividly remembered how Draco had used their last bottle, pouring the brandy over him in a thin line and lapping it up like a cat; his breath hitched to this day at the memory and he tried to avoid thoughts like this because it inevitably lead to the pained knowledge that they were over.

Sighing, he dragged his hand through the wild thatch of raven curls he could never seem to tame and his head snapped up as the floo activated, green flames erupting in the hearth as they spilled a slightly disheveled Draco onto the stone floor. Mouth drying, Harry stared at his former lover, noting the shadows under his eyes and that his face looked pinched and peaked, the tiniest bit of uncharacteristic stubble gracing his jaw; and still he was the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

"Draco," he breathed, licking his lips as the silent blond took his fill of him as well, likely cataloging the differences in his appearance as he'd just done with Draco.

"Harry," Draco greeted, his eyes sliding up to meet Harry's, where they collided and held with his for another long moment, leaving Harry feeling decidedly winded until he managed to shake himself out of his absorption.

"Uh...come on in," he invited, waving his hand toward the couch as he walked further into the room, and then gestured to the waiting bottle of brandy on the bar. "Would you care for a drink? I have that brandy you like or..."

"Brandy would be brilliant," Draco replied, smiling as Harry flushed at the memories that seemed to flow between them as he opened the bottle and poured a measure into two glasses, taking some himself as he was sure he was going to need it to get through this conversation.

"Okay," Harry murmured to himself, giving himself a silent pep talk as he crossed the room and handed Draco a glass, then sat on the sofa next to him, careful to maintain a polite distance despite wanting to be closer to the other man.

"Thanks," Draco murmured, shifting slightly to face Harry as he sipped at the brandy and then set it aside onto the coffee table. "So, um, how is Oliver?"

"Oh, uh...great, I suppose." Harry's forehead wrinkled and he gave a small shrug. Honestly, all thoughts or concerns of his former captain had flown from his mind since Draco had called and they weren't all that close in spite of the handful of dates they'd been on. "He's gearing up for another tour, so he's been pretty busy last couple of weeks."

"Oh?" Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully and his fingers absently fidgeted with the sleeve of his black cashmere sweater. "You going with him?"

"No," Harry carefully said, the furrow in his brow deepening at yet another odd question and shook his head slowly. "I...no...why would you think that?"

"You seemed serious," Draco muttered, a small frown marring his countenance as he continued to pick at his sleeve, obviously reluctant to meet Harry's confused gaze. "The Prophet..."

"Right," Harry sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation at the rag that had the nerve to pass itself off as a reputable paper. Reputable his ass. "The Prophet has us all but picking out curtains and what not. You should know better than to believe anything that rag prints. Oliver and I...we've only been out a few times. It's nothing serious. Not that he's not a nice enough bloke, but he is definitely a confirmed bachelor."

"I see," Draco nodded, his shoulders releasing a bit of the tension they had been holding and almost sighed in relief at Harry's answer.

"And...um...Blaise?" Harry asked, not really caring about the man who had replaced him, but feeling a bit at a loss with this entire conversation. He seriously doubted Draco cared about Oliver either or that he had come over to exchange small talk, but he didn't know how to move it along without appearing rushed and rude. "How is he?"

"I don't know," Draco returned swiftly, reaching for his drink and taking a healthy swallow as Harry gaped at him.

"Huh?" he inquired stupidly, internally cringing at his lack of eloquence, but honestly rendered speechless. Draco and Blaise had been inseparable since he and Harry had parted and Harry didn't know what to make of that comment.

"We broke up a couple of weeks ago," Draco explained with a Gallic shrug. "If you could even really say we were together in the first place."

"Oh, I thought..." Harry's voice died, discombobulated by that revelation. It had hurt at how quickly the blond seemed to move on from him and to hear that Draco hadn't really considered him and his ex-house mate a couple soothed a bruised part of his heart. "Right, the Prophet...I really should take my own advice."

"Yes," Draco smiled faintly, exchanging a long-suffering glance with Harry.

"Are you okay with it?" Harry queried hesitantly, fiddling with his glass when Draco shot him a surprised look. It wouldn't do to make assumptions after all. "I mean, you sounded upset earlier and..."

"NO,"Draco refuted emphatically, shaking his head in negation, then sighing as he set his glass down again, swiping a weary hand over his face."I mean, yes, I was upset earlier, but no, it wasn't because of Blaise. It was my decision. He...he wasn't the right person for me."

"Oh," Harry intoned softly, his heart giving a stubborn flutter before he ruthlessly quashed it. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm not," Draco murmured almost inaudibly, and it brought back the flutters despite Harry's head arguing that it didn't mean anything. Just because Draco decided Blaise wasn't right for him, didn't mean that he thought Harry was; but his heart was as stubborn as the rest of him.

"So..." Harry dragged the word out, trying to find a polite way to ask just why Draco was there. "Did you want to talk about it? Whatever's bothering you?"

"I had a dream," Draco replied cryptically, and Harry barely quelled the urge to roll his eyes impatiently, knowing it wouldn't do to rush the blond at his side. "One that opened my eyes."

"Okay," he nodded encouragingly.

"It was about you, actually," Draco confessed, giving his sleeve another nervous tug.

"Oh," Harry responded breathlessly, swallowing harshly when Draco moved closer and their thighs pressed against one another and set on hand on his knee.

"It...it was about the case you that you just solved," Draco continued, absently drawing abstract designs on Harry's thigh, eliciting a delicate shiver throughout the brunet's body and nearly shattering his concentration. "The one where you were almost trapped in the building and ended up in hospital with burns from that misfired spell."

"Yeah?" Harry queried, mentally chastising himself for the breathy tone his question took as the blond demon proceeded to, unwittingly, drive him mad with those soft, absentminded touches.

"But it ended...well, it ended very differently," Draco swallowed thickly, drawing his hand away, and Harry hated that he was simultaneously relieved and disappointed at the halted action. "You'd...lets just say you didn't make it out of the building."

"Oh, Draco," Harry breathed, making a distressed sound in the back of his throat as Draco's eyes clenched, a pained moue flashing briefly across his stoic face and took his hand, rubbing soothing circles across the knuckles. "But...I'm okay."

He knew all too well the fears that could creep up and strangle you when faced with such dreams; he'd often had them about Draco when he was working a difficult case with the Unspeakables.

"See..." Harry shook him slightly, pulling at the collar of his sweater, exposing the pale curve of shoulder and collarbone that had taken the brunt of the curse. "Not even scarred."

"I know," Draco shuddered, his fingers tightening reflexively around Harry's hand as he lifted the other hesitantly, as if he wanted to touch the exposed skin to reassure himself it was whole and unmarred, but clenched it into a loose fist instead and dropped it. "I know, but it felt so real...it made me realize that I didn't want...I _couldn't_ live in a world without you."

"Oh." Harry whispered, his hand falling from his shoulder, allowing the cloth to spring back into place as his mind frantically processed Draco's words, his stomach adding its own notes to the butterfly chorus that had started in his heart.

"And I realized," Draco hurtled on, the words tripping over themselves in an effort to be expressed now that the dam had broken, adding to the confused elation swimming through Harry's veins. "I made a really big mistake. I should have never walked away from you, Harry. I've missed you like crazy and I've been miserable without you."

"_Oh_..." Harry breathed intelligibly, his mind a cacophony of thoughts that refused to jell as he stared at the agitated blond.

"Harry," Draco pleaded quietly, grabbing Harry's hand between both of his as he leaned forward earnestly, stunning Harry with the wealth of emotion that swam through stormy gray eyes. He'd never seen Draco this way, and honestly, didn't know what to say. "I know I don't deserve it, but please give me another chance? I promise, I'll make it up to you."

"Draco..." Harry started, then paused, biting his lower lip as the words bombarded him, finally falling into a discernible order in his bewildered brain. Taking a deep breath, he watched the distressed man in front of him fidget and he sighed."I don't..."

"No, you're right," Draco cut him off, withdrawing both physically and emotionally as his mask fell back into place with what he obviously construed as Harry's rejection. "I shouldn't have come..."

"No, wait!" Harry cried, panic splashing through his chest as he scrambled for Draco's hands, grabbing them and keeping the other man seated while he frantically explained. "Draco. Please, just wait."

Draco sat back and stared at Harry, their eyes melding as Draco searched Harry's face and eyes for that presumed rejection and sighed when he only found earnest appeal, the fight sapping from his body; and Harry sighed with relief, his own shoulders relaxing as he closed his eyes. Drawing a steadying breath, he wet his parched lips and studied Draco seriously, pulling together the words that could make or break this moment, but ones he knew must be said.

"I'm not saying no," Harry explained, a small smile touching his lips when gray eyes lit. "Because the truth is, I've missed you too and nothing has been the same since you've left. I just..."

Pausing, Harry averted his gaze, unable to watch the shining eyes and that bright smile fade when he reminded his former lover of all the problems that still stood between them; the most significant of these being the reason Draco walked away in the first place. They were still valid concerns, and as much as he'd love to throw caution to the wind, and throw his arms around the blond in welcome, snogging him senseless, he knew these worries needed to be addressed.

"I just..." Harry trailed off when words failed him and Draco's smile dimmed, but pushed through nonetheless. "I want you to be sure, because the last time I saw you, you said you couldn't live with the media circus that is my life."

Harry turned back to Draco with a resigned frown, nodding when the blond sighed and closed his eyes, nodding wearily in acknowledgment, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as Harry continued.

"Nothing has changed," Harry warned gently, squeezing Draco's hands between his, meeting a much more sober gaze as Draco opened his eyes. "I mean, I've only been out with Oliver five times and you see what they've been printing. I can't change that no matter how much I'd like to. They are always going to hound me; and if you're a part of my life, some of that will backlash onto you."

Harry halted once more, swallowing nervously as Draco nodded slowly, seeming to accept the truth of Harry's words; and given the fact that the blonde hadn't yet running screaming from the building, he was hopeful that they might work through this issue. But he planned to hold back just a touch until he saw that Draco was serious about working through their problems. He wanted this reconciliation more than anything, but...

"And..." He took a deep breath, his words coming in a rush as he laid it all down on the line. "I don't think my heart can stand it if you walked away again. It almost didn't survive it last time."

"I know," Draco sighed, his hands tightening around Harry's as he bowed his head in acknowledgment. "And while I hate the idea of having my life smeared across the pages of the Prophet, after everything that has happened, that dream showed me that...it doesn't matter."

Harry made a slight strangled noise in the back of his throat as silver eyes lifted and met his, and so much love and pain stared back at him. Moving unconsciously closer, he untangled his hands from Draco's to smooth soothingly over his arms before sliding them back down to entwine their fingers once more.

"I woke up, heartbroken, reaching for you instinctively and my heart dropped when I found nothing but empty space; and it took me several minutes to remember the reason why you weren't there, the dream felt that real. I don't..." Draco choked out, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion as sad eyes locked with Harry's. "I don't ever want to feel that way again."

Making another clucking sound, Harry dropped Draco's hands and pulled the other man into his arms, shuddering softly when he found himself wrapped in a tight embrace and closed his eyes, reveling in Draco' nearness after months of absence. Resting his head against Draco's brow, he inhaled the soft vanilla, citrus and woodsy scent that he loved so much, and had missed, as the first tendrils of hope warmed his heart since the other man had walked out of the door.

"Do you think you might..." Draco asked hesitantly, his voice trailing away as if fearful that voicing the full thought would scare Harry off.

"Let's do this," Harry compromised, wanting to take this second chance, but instilling a measure of caution so he didn't rush in heedlessly as he was wont to do, only to have it all fall apart spectacularly around him. "Tomorrow, I will talk to Oliver and explain that I can't see him any longer. And then on Saturday, we can go on a date perhaps?"

"Yes," Draco agreed fervently, nodding his head jerkily, so that silky blond hairs teased against Harry's brow, mussing it further. "That sounds good."

"And we'll take it from there," Harry continued, tucking a stray lock of hair behind Draco's ear tenderly and then dropped it to take his hands again.

He could sense Draco's disappointment at his cautious demeanor and that his answer hadn't been an unequivocal yes, but he felt this was necessary. The first time around, they had rushed in as their passionate natures dictated and they had crashed and burned when things got rocky; he wanted this time to last, and for that to happen, they need to build slowly from the ground up.

"I really want to say yes, Draco, but, I also want to be sure that you know what you're getting yourself into. My life is never going to change. There will be quiet times when the paper barely notices my existence, and then something will happen, and it will kick up another media storm. I have no control over that. Can you accept this?"

"I understand," Draco whispered, smoothing his hands against Harry's arms. "Anything, Harry. I'll prove it to you. I..."

Draco never finished his thought, opting to grab Harry around the waist and snog the life out of him instead in response. Harry moaned, his hands flying up to grapple for purchase, locking onto Draco's arms and then slid them up over his biceps to curl around his neck as his lashes drifted shut. Tangling his fingers into the fine hairs at Draco's nape, Harry pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, his breathing snagging as teeth caught his bottom lip and nipped.

Gasping softly at the slight sting, he parted his lips and groaned when Draco took advantage of it, slipping his tongue between them and curled it around Harry's, stroking it languidly, enticing Harry to all but knock the blond flat on his back as he climbed into his lap and straddled his legs. Entwining his tongue with Draco's, he slid his hands up through silky blond strands and tilted Draco's head slightly, unconsciously taking control of the kiss, leaving the other man to clutch at his back as he devoured the mouth he'd missed desperately.

Pulling back when the need for air made itself known, Harry placed a chaste kiss near the corner of Draco's mouth and leaned his head against the blonde's with a sigh. He'd love to continue this, but the niggling thought in the back of his mind wouldn't allow him to lose himself in Draco just yet; he and Oliver might be casual, but he wasn't one to date two blokes at once. And he knew that, for his own sense of fair play, he needed to end what he had with the former Gryffindor before taking back up with his snarky, former Slytherin.

"Mmm...as much as I'm enjoying this, and hate to cut it short, we should wait," Harry reluctantly sighed, a pang of disappointment hitting him even if it had been his decision to halt things. "At least until I have the chance to talk to Oliver. As much as I'd love nothing more than to take you into my room right now, it's not fair to him."

"I know," Draco agreed, equally reluctant now that he had gotten what he'd been missing for months, but he too realized it was best to reconcile those nebulous attachments before they reunited. "You're right, but...do you mind if we just lay here for a while? Not doing anything, of course...I just want to feel you close to me."

"I think I'd really like that," Harry whispered with a smile.

Sighing with contentment when Draco laid back against the couch, taking Harry with him, he curled himself around the blond, burying his face into Draco's neck, and nestling his head in the crook of his shoulder, where it had rested so many times before, and let the even rhythm of Draco's heart lull him into a deep, complacent sleep.

* * *

"So did he finally do it?" Blaise asked curiously, arching a dark brow at his sandy-haired companion when the man slid into the booth, where they'd met multiple times to plot and plan.

"Draco called tonight," Oliver nodded, pausing to order a butterbeer when the waitress came up and then continued with an unrepentant grin. Really, these measures wouldn't have been necessary if the foolish idiots had just talked to each other. "Harry tried to hide it, but you know him, he can't lie to save his life. Subtle as a bludger to the head, that one. He all but shoved me out the door with some weak excuse, so I'm sure Draco was on his way over."

"It's about time," Blaise laughed, clinking his glass against his accomplice's.

Two weeks prior, Blaise had ran into the former Gryffindor after a date he'd had with Harry, having newly broken things off with Draco, and over drinks, they commiserated over the fact that neither man had moved on, but were stubbornly refusing to do anything about it. Their partnership was born that night, both wanting nothing more than their friends' happiness and plotted to make it happen, even if they had to drag them into it, kicking and screaming the entire way. Luckily, it hadn't taken that extreme of a measure.

Well – mostly – they both did owe Weasley for his supposed lack of grace.

"I thought Draco was going to drive me mad with all his Potter prattle. I was sure he was going to pop a vein when he saw that the two of you were dating. Nice touch on the domestic bliss angle; the press really soaked that up. And Draco was practically foaming at the mouth."

"That was inspired," Oliver agreed with a smirk, "But really it's Ron that is owed kudos for cementing the deal with that misfired curse."

Oliver recalled how aghast the redhead had been when they had tricked him into being an accomplice to their machinations, especially since it had been related to 'that ferret' as he put it; but even Ron had to acknowledge that Harry had been utterly miserable without Draco and reluctantly agreed to help smooth the waters between his best friend and his schoolyard nemesis. Ron's love for his best friend and adopted brother had been greater than his animosity for Draco.

"I owe him season tickets for that; Merlin knows the guilt of cursing his best friend will eat him alive, if Hermione doesn't kill him first for being careless. That and supplying that experimental Wheezes gag that affects dreams. Harry will likely kill him for getting involved, but needs must..."

"Hopefully, we'll never have to do this again," Blaise sighed fervently, taking a sip of his scotch with a weary shake of his head, thankful that Draco was now Potter's problem once more. He knew he could be quite high maintenance himself, but Draco took it to an extreme.

"Knowing those two stubborn prats? You can count on it," Oliver disagreed, taking a long, resigned drag from his butterbeer. "But next time, it will be some other sap's problem."

"Hear, hear to that," Blaise saluted with a grin.


	2. The Way You Snark Tonight

**Title: **Just the Way You Snark Tonight

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words:** 1358

**Warnings: **Pure unadulterated fluff that made my beta's muse scream in horror. But I do so love to torture Bob**.**

**Summary: **It had taken them fifteen years, but they were exactly were they belonged.

**Author's Notes: **The next in my series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. This ficlet is based on Just the Way You Look Tonight by Tony Bennett. The lyrics Harry sings are in italics. Songs were chosen at random by hitting shuffle on my iPod.

* * *

**Just the Way You Snark Tonight**

"_Some day_," Harry crooned softly, smiling when his warm baritone filled Draco's ear and caused his new husband to hum in contentment. They had been waiting for this day for so long, that it still surprised him that it had finally arrived.

Draco and he had been together for nearly fifteen years, having started dating a couple of years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and it had been an uphill battle between friends, family and the Ministry to get to where they were today.

"_When I'm awfully low_..." Harry continued, brushing a gentle kiss over the blonde's ear and spun him in a slow circle, which was about the extent of his dancing prowess, and looked into beloved gray eyes, amazed that this man was his.

Both family and friends had protested their relationship – Harry's thinking Draco had coerced him somehow, and Draco's upset that he took up with the enemy instead of settling down with a pureblood bride – and they had fought the union, causing both men to leave and stay away for a time until the naysayers could get their priorities straight.

"_When the world is cold_..."

And when friends and family fell into line, they had to wait years before the wizarding world got over their antiquated views and allowed for same sex unions. While they hadn't looked down on them as badly as muggles, there was still a sentiment that such couplings would be short lived and wouldn't stand the test of time. But he and Draco had proven them wrong with fifteen blissful years and counting.

"_I will feel a glow, just thinking of you._"

But to Harry, they had always made an odd sort of sense. Even as children, constantly bickering and hexing each other, they could never seem just leave the other alone. It should have been easy to ignore the blond, but something had always gotten under his skin when it came to Draco and he gravitated to him, often against his will. So when Harry discovered he enjoyed kissing men as much as he did women, was it any wonder he drifted towards the snarky Slytherin?

"_And the way you look tonight,_" Harry sang, tipping his head back slightly to admire the man wrapped in his arms.

Draco smiled back, brushing a soft kiss across his cheek as they slowly circled the dance floor under the dreamy, supportive eyes of friends and family. Harry had to admit that the blond was stunning tonight.

"Of course you will," Draco, murmured smugly, smirking when Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head disparagingly at his display of vanity. "I am spectacular."

"_Oh, but you're lovely_..." Harry rasped, a gentle grin touching his mouth, lighting impossibly green eyes with joy and mirth as Draco gave an affronted huff and pulled back with a mock glare.

"Lovely?" Draco groused playfully, frowning at his smirking husband. "I am not a bloody girl, Potter."

"Potter-Malfoy..." Harry corrected, kissing the ring on Draco's left hand, drawing a dreamy smile from the blond and his eyes danced with amusement when Draco sniffed, shaking off the reminder in favor of continuing his complaint.

"I am dashing, stunning, devilishly handsome, but never lovely."

"You also run at the mouth..." Harry observed, resting his forehead to Draco's and closed his eyes, his heart swelling with happiness and love as his love snorted and proceeded to pout quite attractively. Opening his eyes, he pulled the slightly protruding lip between his teeth and nipped it gently, pulling Draco closer still as he admitted with a sigh.

"_There is nothing for me, but to love you_..."

"Don't sound so disgruntled when you say that," Draco snorted, drawing a soft chuckle from his dance partner as he took over the lead, turning Harry into a tight circle and making his head spin in tandem.

"_Just the way you look, tonight_," Harry mouthed along with the song they'd chosen for their first dance as a married couple, picking up the muggle tradition from Hermione.

"Yes, you are obsessed with that, aren't you?" Draco drawled, pulling Harry back into his arms and smirked when the brunet rolled his eyes again, watching him with a fond exasperation. "With good reason naturally."

"Naturally," Harry mocked.

Draco's vain streak was notorious and Harry didn't even bother to chide him for it any longer, knowing his comments would fall on deaf ears. It was just his way and honestly, he loved him just the way he was – snarky attitude and all. Laughing internally as he listened to the lyrics of the song, he couldn't resist adding a slight sardonic twist as he whispered the next words in Draco's ear.

"_With each __**word**__, your __**tenderness**__ grows_..."

"You know," Draco commented dryly, starry-gray eyes filling with amusement as he picked up the satirical undertone to Harry's voice. "I don't think Tony Bennett meant that statement sarcastically."

"Yeah, well..." Harry snickered, his tone equally as dry as he arched a brow. "One works with what one is given..."

"Ha, bloody, ha..." Draco deadpanned.

"_And that laugh_," Harry serenaded, his lips twitching when the blond rolled his eyes at Harry's continued mocking, scrunching his nose as Harry dropped a kiss onto it. "That wrinkles your nose..."

"It does not!" Draco refuted hotly, scrubbing his nose furiously in protest. "You, take that back!"

"_Touches my foolish heart_," Harry trilled, capturing the flailing hand in his and pressing it to his heart, dragging a soft smile from his laughing husband as the blond quipped.

"Well, at least we're in agreement on something."

Giving a startled chortle, Harry rubbed his cheek against Draco's, humming in contentment as the blond sighed and leaned into the caress, his hand tightening around Harry's waist to bring him into the cradle of his body. Harry beamed, love and warmth colliding into a messy ball in his chest as they stared lovingly at each other and Harry rasped seriously.

"_Lovely, never, __**never**__ change_..."

"Not likely to happen, Potter," Draco scoffed quietly, a pleased flush spreading across his cheeks.

"Potter-_Malfoy_," Harry reiterated, placing emphasis on the addition to his name with a smile. "You really ought to get used to that, dear."

"Too long," Draco sniffed haughtily, not at all serious about his complaint, but enjoying twitting his husband just as much as Harry was enjoying teasing him. Waving Harry off with an imperious flick of his hand, he feigned a sigh and relented grudgingly. "I suppose, I'll just have to call you Harry."

"That works too," Harry nodded with an indulgent smile, not at all bothered by Draco's snark. Truthfully he enjoyed the blonde's acerbic wit; it made for an interesting union and he indulged it for a reason. "_'Cause I...I love you._"

"Of course you do," Draco intoned pompously. "What's not to love?"

"_Just the way you look tonight,_" Harry purred with a soft laugh, green melding with silver as Draco drew back to meet his gaze – love, happiness and tenderness reflected within their depths.

"You are a complete sap," Draco pronounced with complete and utter delight.

"And you love me for it," Harry quipped, feeling insanely blessed to have this man as his life partner. Could it get any better than this?

Smiling softly, Draco leaned down the slight one to two inch distance between their heights and kissed Harry gently, lingering for a moment as the music came to a close around them, whispering reverently as he drew back.

"I do that."

Harry hummed softly, wrapping his arms tightly around the blonde and pulled him into a heated snog as their friends and family whistled and cheered and cat-called around them. There was no place he'd rather be and no one else he'd rather share this moment with; Draco was his heart and soul, and he loved him beyond what mere words could express.

"_Just the way you look...tonight._"


	3. Irresistible

**Title: **Irresistible

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words:** 2442

**Warnings: **Sexual situations...kinda

**Summary: **Harry is on the prowl, but what happens when the predator becomes the prey? He'll find those snarky blondes are far too irresistible for his own good.

**Author's Notes: **The third in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. Ficlet is based on Irresistible by Jessica Simpson. I find it amusing this song is even on my iPod as it is so far from my taste in music, but I downloaded it for another story and have yet to delete it. Thankfully it worked for this little fic. This is the first in a set and is a Harry POV.

* * *

**Irresistible**

Harry sat back on his stool, his unattended scotch on the rocks creating a pool of condensation on the bar in the sultry press of late summer air, and avidly watched the dancers with baited breath, the crush of bodies heating something low and primal in his belly as he slowly wet his lips. He'd come here for one reason alone, to pull in a warm, friendly body and forget life, and the cold sting of rejection, for a few hours. But he'd yet to see anything that sparked his interest – well, with one exception, but he wasn't even going to think about him. That was just asking for trouble; and he did try to resist the call of adventure, risk and danger these days if he could at all help it.

Knocking back his liquid courage in one go, he slid off his perch, snaking his way through writhing, damp bodies as he skirted the fringes of the of the dance floor, taking the chance to get a better view of the offerings, which were plentiful this evening, and he had no doubts of his ability to entice his chosen closer. He had dressed to kill after all, pouring himself into the ridiculously and sinfully tight black, leather pants that Hermione had talked him into buying, coupling them with knee-high black, dragonhide boots and a deep green, sleeveless shirt that nearly matched his eyes perfectly.

He completed the look with messily tousled hair, which Hermione had scandalously decried, saying it made him look like he had been shagged up against the wall, but also couldn't help but admire at the same time. Especially when he paired it with a single, gold hoop dangling from his newly pierced ear and a live, decorative snake, that curled around his upper arm. She shook her head at him disparagingly, sniffing that the outfit was going to get him into nothing but trouble, but since he was feeling the need to court a bit tonight – just a bit and certainly not of the level of the kind the blond would give him – he had laughed it off and donned them anyway.

He felt good, and judging by the numerous appreciative glances from men and women alike since his arrival, he knew he looked good as well. Flashing a sultry smile at a passing blonde, he chuckled softly when she giggled, dipping her head against her companion's as they whispered frantically to each other, both sets of feminine eyes following him through the crowd, and he added a subtle swagger to his step just because this intricate social dance had been unexpectedly fun. But as enticing as the view had been, he was avoiding blondes this evening.

Or at least one particular blond – but, luckily that one hadn't noticed him yet.

He hoped.

Catching the telltale flash of platinum out of the corner of his eye, he ducked his head and dove into the crowd, leaving the man behind as he studied him through a veil of thick, black lashes. Flicking his eyes over the lissome form, he licked his lips longingly and couldn't help but admire the delicious play of sinew and skin that coiled and writhed as he danced, approving of the way pale blonde locks fell around sharp features, softening them nicely. If Harry were to be perfectly honest, the man in question was beautiful – exquisite even – and if it had been anyone other than that particular person, he might be tempted to a closer look.

But that way laid more heartache than it was worth he was certain.

Turning his face away, he missed the flash of silver, gleaming through the half-lidded eyes that followed his every movement, as they had been since he'd moved away from the bar and into the fray; a predatory heat lighting in them that burned and coveted, and kept him within their sight as their owner stalked_ him_ across the dance floor.

Slinking through the crowd, Harry paused, his eyes lingering on one figure in particular; a tall, muscled redhead that reminded him of Bill Weasley and he watched the man for several minutes, riveted by the lazy seduction his potential prey was weaving. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes hooded as they traveled over the fit form and was just contemplating going over and pressing up against it, when an arm snaked around his waist, pulling him against a hard, defined chest.

"Beautiful," his assailant whispered reverently against his ear.

That voice, one he'd likely never forget, elicited a small shudder of desire throughout his body and his eyes drifted shut, caught by the sinfully sexy growl in it. Damn...he had been meaning to avoid this one particular attendant tonight; and he could only blame his absorption in his potential prey for getting caught in the web of another. Biting back a groan as teeth sunk into his earlobe, Harry tried to pull away, only to find himself firmly trapped within the steel bands that passed for his nemesis' arms.

Harry's breath hitched, his body tightening deliciously as the blond pressed a soft kiss against his rapidly thrumming pulse and he let out a little helpless whimper as hands ghosted over his torso to grip his hips, and then groaned in truth when hips ground against his arse, catching every cell aflame. Gasping as he was suddenly spun around, his eyes popped open and green clashed with silver as they collided. Harry smiled smugly when those gorgeous eyes widened in recognition as they took in their prey, sliding over his body greedily before coming back to his, a curious smirk pasted on pale pink lips.

"Potter?" Malfoy queried faintly, arching a finely groomed brow as he crowded Harry, making the brunet's breath snag in his chest as long, lean legs pressed against his.

"Malfoy," he nodded, damning the slightly breathy quality of his voice and tried to move away, only to run into a tall table behind him, and getting pinned in by the lethally attractive blond.

"You..." Malfoy licked his lips, his gaze sliding over Harry's leather and silk clad form hungrily and then shook his head as if to clear it, inducing a flash of triumph that surged through Harry's breast. Maybe he wasn't the only one susceptible; he had to remember to thank Hermione for her help tonight if that were so. "I didn't expect to see you in a place like this."

"Like what?" Harry arched a brow, leaning back as far as he dared to put some distance between him and the seductive blond, but failed miserably, as it only encouraged Malfoy to close the distance until they were pressed chest to chest and thigh to thigh. "A dance club? Or a predominantly gay dance club specifically?"

"Both," Malfoy breathed against his ear and Harry cursed internally; his nemesis had never been one to play fairly and it seemed like he'd already deduced one of Harry's weaknesses. "Either. I thought you were with the Weaselette. And straight."

"Not anymore," Harry replied breathlessly, pushing his hands against the insufferable man's chest and only succeeded in getting them trapped between their bodies. "And I play both ends of the field. Not that I advertise that fact. Thankfully, most people here are far too wrapped up in their own secrets to bother with mine. That is, until now. Should I be concerned that I'll be seeing this in the Prophet?"

"Now why would I do that?" Malfoy whispered, his breath hitching when Harry pinched him, unintentionally getting one of his nipples – pierced nipples at that – in an attempt to free himself.

"Because you enjoy making my life a living hell?" Harry replied dryly, gasping when the blond retaliated in kind and pinched his bum, then grabbing himself a nice handful, pulled the brunet deeper into his body.

"That's all in the past, Potter," Malfoy rasped, groaning aloud when Harry struggled against him, managing to excite the insufferable prat, but also getting him to step back a step. "I prefer to use this knowledge to another benefit."

"Dare I ask?" Harry queried mockingly, feigning interest as he maneuvered his body to break away once he had a chance.

"Dance with me," Malfoy requested, frowning when Harry gave a slight nudge of his hip and managed to slip free of his confinement.

"I don't think so, Malfoy," Harry lofted, slipping away, his heart pounding in his ears even as his body protested his escape. Apparently, despite his mind's insistence that tangling with Malfoy was a folly, his body didn't agree. Which is probably why he didn't make it more than five feet before he felt long, tapered fingers clamp around his wrist. Damned Seeker's reflexes.

"Well," Malfoy threatened softly, using the momentum of Harry's flight against him and pushing him into a wall, his fingers clamping around the other wrist as he walked him back and pinned them over his head. "I could just let the information _accidentally_ slip..."

"I could just obliviate you," Harry threatened, all the while realizing how empty his threat sounded given his current predicament.

"But you won't," Malfoy lofted, pressing that sinfully fit and irresistible body to Harry's, drawing a shudder of need from the brunet. Smirking, Malfoy leaned in, his breath ghosting over Harry's lips as he whispered confidently. "Had you actually planned on seeing that through, you'd have done it already."

Staring at those taunting lips, Harry hated to admit that the blond was right, but well, what could he say? The truth was, Harry was both alarmed and excited by the other man's persistent pursuit and he _really did_ want to see where the night was going to end. Flicking his tongue over his lips, his breath hitched when it caught the corner of Malfoy's mouth, dragging a pained groan from the other man. Those lips hovered enticingly over his, their breaths mingling, bringing the faint hint of alcohol with it and he knew he was slowly losing this battle of wills.

Really, how on Earth was he supposed to resist the man when his every word and movement was drenched in sex?

"Come on, Potter," the blond enticed, his lips brushing over Harry's, leaving behind sparks of electricity in their wake, making Harry weak in the knees. "One dance; you know you want to."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Malfoy," he murmured, a far cry from the firm denial he meant to issue and the man in front of him smiled smugly, sensing his weakening resolve. "I'm not much of a dancer. You're better off with one of those hot, young things vying for you attention out there."

"Don't want them," Malfoy responded, a mere breath against his ear as he pressed his nose into the hair at Harry's temple and inhaled deeply, his voice dropping to a warm, sexy rasp. "I want you. And I'd make it worth your while. I guarantee that you'll...enjoy yourself."

"I..." Harry trailed off, his eyes fluttering shut as a hard thigh insinuated its way between his, and Malfoy pressed his very stiff, very interested cock against the hollow of his hip, rubbing against him sinuously, making him completely lose his train of thought.

"Say yes," Malfoy murmured, tracing a hot trail of kisses along his jaw, and sucked on the skin above his pulse, drawing it into his mouth and biting down hard enough to leave a mark, causing Harry's hips to buck softly. "Say yes, Harry."

"Hmmm..." Harry hummed mindlessly, tilting his head to allow Malfoy better access, his breath coming in rapid, shallow pants as his hands broke free from their imprisonment to clutch at Malfoy's back, his entire body arching up into the slightly taller man's, seeking more friction. "Draco..."

"Yes, you want to," Malfoy tempted urgently, his arms wrapping around Harry and bringing him deeper into the cradle of his body, leaving the brunet reeling. "I can feel how much you want to give in. Say yes, Harry, and I'll make sure you never regret it."

"Yes..." he whispered as lips captured his, the taste of mint and scotch and an underlying flavor he couldn't identify, but named Draco, filling his palate as a hot, seeking tongue slipped between his lips and curled around his, tangling in a dance as old as time.

Merlin, what was he doing?

"Excellent," Malfoy crowed quietly once he drew away, flashing Harry a smug smirk as he grabbed the discombobulated brunet's wrist, tugging him from the wall and into the fray.

"Wait..." Harry spluttered, the haze in his head lifting as Malfoy dragged him onto the middle of the dance floor and he wondered what he'd just agreed to in his Malfoy-induced stupor. "I meant..."

"Too late, Potter," Malfoy interrupted, dragging Harry against him, molding their bodies together until not even a millimeter of air was between them, and began a sinuous rocking that sent a frisson of excitement shooting down Harry's spine as he rasped his claim. "You're mine."

Giving up his weak resistance, Harry fell into the dance, groaning heartily when Malfoy's hand cupped his arse and he slid a thigh between his legs, rubbing against the painfully hard cock between Harry's. Rocking their bodies to the low, throbbing beat, Malfoy captured Harry's lips, continuing the dizzying dance they'd started against the wall. Sliding his hands over Malfoy's back, Harry fisted one hand into the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other grasped his shoulder and he crawled up that body, laughing breathlessly when the action elicited a grunt of need from his blond tormentor.

Grinding his hips against the taller man's, Harry's hands roamed freely over that Quidditch-trained form, all the while maintaining their parody of a dance, that was more akin to fucking with one's clothing on. He figured, if he were destined to hell that night, he might as well burn as brightly as he could on the journey. Drawing back from that far too talented mouth, he cupped Malfoy's arse and groaned as a rock hard erection ground into his, sliding together in a delicious friction that ripped the air from his lungs, leaving him seeing spots as their bodies clung and melded.

Panting harshly, a pulse of desire rippled across his nerves as Malfoy brushed his lips over his ear and whispered huskily, "Come home with me."

Harry contemplated making a token resistance, but gave it up for naught when hot hands slid over his already overheated body, burning his skin with long trails of fire and responded the only way that made sense –

"Yes."


	4. Sleep Together

**Title: **Sleep Together

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Words:** 3319

**Rating: **Mature...Hard R, potentially bordering on NC-17

**Warnings: **Sexual situations. This ficlet is the entire reason for the Mature rating and is the only one in this set so far that has this rating. It has descriptive sex between two men. If that's not your cup of tea, I strongly suggest you don't read it. Do not whine to me later that you had no idea what was coming as you have been warned.

**Summary: **Draco has managed to lure his prey back to his lair.

**Author's Notes: **The fourth in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. Ficlet is based on Sleep Togther by Garbage. This is the second in a set and is a Draco POV.

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**Sleep Together**

The twist of Apparation faded from his gut as it spilled them into his room, their bodies still entwined from the heated dance they had engaged in; the moment that sweet 'yes' had fallen from his quarry's lips, he had wasted no time in getting them away from the club and heavy, prying eyes. Staring down into emerald eyes, clouded over in lust, Draco still couldn't believe that he had managed to coax the skittish beauty into his lair – but now that he had him there, there was no way he was going to let the raven escape. Whether Potter fully realized it or not, Draco had staked his claim and a Malfoy never relinquished their treasures once found.

Capturing the pink lips that had been driving him mad from the moment he'd spied them from across the room, Draco dragged the shorter man into the cradle of his body, drinking from that lush, honey-tinged mouth as a man dying of thirst. Groaning when the brunet met him with equal fervor, he tugged impatiently at the snug, green shirt that molded to the sleek, nicely defined chest he'd noticed the moment Potter had ventured into the club, (not that he'd known it was Potter; that was a pleasant surprise) sliding his hands hungrily up golden-tinted flesh, drawing a low, rumbling moan from the lips beneath his.

Draco had gone out that night, desperate to ease the aching need that had slowly built over the course of the day, the kind of hunger that only another hot, fit body could slake, but had quickly grown disenchanted with the limited pickings. Not that there was anything overtly wrong with the club's offerings – they were in fact, quite striking – but the prey surrounding him were far too easily persuaded by his ample charms and fell too readily to his whims.

It made the hunt boring, mundane, when the chosen didn't run; or at the very least put up a token resistance. He wanted a challenge; someone who would look him in the eye defiantly and sneer at his efforts, teasing and denying him his desires until the very last moment, when they would surrender ever-so-sweetly. Only then would the prize be worthy.

That's when_ he_ had entered, and instantly, the air charged, making the fine hairs on his nape and arms stand on end.

Casting a lazy eye over to the door, he jolted when that whipcord body maneuvered its way through the crowd, pulling up a stool at the bar and waved his hand casually, attempting to get the barkeep's attention. Licking his lips slowly, he drew away from the insipid, little blond, playing so desperately for his interest and glided closer, keeping bodies between himself and the raven beauty in order to study him fully – it wouldn't do to alert the quarry of his imminent downfall, after all.

Letting his eyes travel the fit, compact form languidly as the man leaned into the bar, he lingered on the tight, muscled arse, lovingly hugged by snug, black leather and, undignified as it was, nearly drooled at the sight. Visions of that gorgeous arse arching beneath him as he slid his cock into the owner's waiting, snug sheath, made his cock stiffen painfully and ripped a groan of pure, unadulterated lust from his throat. Raising his gaze, it momentarily clashed with bright, truculent eyes and he sucked in a breath of genuine excitement.

Oh, yes, this one would fight him; deliciously so.

Drawing back into the shadows, Draco watched as the beauty flicked his eyes away dismissively, and it only made him covet the man even more. This one blatantly challenged him, not only with his presence, but also with his cool, uninterested smile. He might have felt offended by the blatant dismissal, if it weren't for the faint tremor that shook the brunet's body when their eyes first clashed, followed by a subtle shifting in his seat, which told him that the other man was affected much more than he wanted to let on. And Draco knew then he had to possess him.

Challenge set; challenge met. By the end of the night, the raven would be his.

What came next, had been a delicious game of cat and mouse, his raven beauty staying just a step or two ahead of him as he stalked him across the floor; and while he wasn't a patient man typically, in this he had been willing to take his time. The prize was worthy of his patience and he had no doubt that he would eventually run the man down, wrapping him in the slow, intricate web he was spinning. Plus the prolonged hunt ignited the the smoldering burn in the bit of his stomach, fanning it into an achingly sweet inferno just waiting to be unleashed on its chosen prey.

That his chosen ended up being Potter had only made the conquest sweeter.

Pulling away from that addictive mouth, he latched onto Potter's slightly damp throat, his teeth scraping over the salty skin and smirked when the brunet arched his neck, pressing it harder against his mouth as he whimpered quietly in need. Deftly walking the heavenly feast back against his bed, Draco removed his mouth from that long, slim column when he all but tore the shirt from Potter's body.

Toppling the other man down onto his bed, he stood above him, taking in his fill of thin, corded limbs. The brunet looked positively sinful splayed across his black, silk sheets, Potter's ruffled hair blending beautifully with the material as red, kiss-swollen lips parted and electric green eyes burned with desire. Delectable. Tearing off his own shirt, the buttons flying to the four corners of the room, he dropped it to the floor and kicked off his shoes before kneeling on the edge of the bed. Licking his lips, he crawled up Potter's body, sliding his hands over leather clad legs, parting them slightly, and cupped that exquisite arse and yanked, bringing their cocks together.

Groaning as they slid together, Draco skated his hands over Potters hips and all that pale, bared skin as he sunk down, capturing the other man's mouth in a heated kiss that left his head reeling. Frotting against him, Draco hissed when nails bit into his skin, raking down his back, and likely leaving long, red gouges in their wake as Potter cupped his arse and arched, grinding their erections together in an effort to get more friction. So lovely...he had known his quarry would never lie beneath him passively.

Tearing his mouth away from Potter's, Draco trailed hot, wet, biting kisses down his neck, sucking the rapidly thrumming pulse into his mouth and bit down sharply, marking Potter, drawing a startled cry from his prey. Laving his tongue over the tender, rapidly purpling skin, he smirked when Potter's breath hitched sharply and set about systematically claiming the taut body beneath his with lips, tongue, teeth and nails, marking his quarry with all the pent up, boyish desire that had haunted him during their Hogwarts days.

There was nothing more aggravating, facing your schoolyard nemesis, torn between wanting nothing more than to throttle the boy for his self-righteous views and actions, and wanting to pin them down and fuck him into the floor. Potter had always been far too lovely for either of their own good.

Grabbing his wand, he gave an impatient flick of his hand, spelling off their clothing, but not vanishing them completely, as he had every intentions of seeing that perfect arse molded in snug, black leather again; he really needed to thank whomever had talked Potter into that purchase. Staring down into green eyes, hazy with lust, and just a touch of wariness, he smiled predaciously, enjoying that subtle flash of apprehension.

Usually, he'd take his time unwrapping his chosen mark, unveiling each part one inch at a time, preferring to tease them senseless, but this moment had been years in the making and he couldn't contain his growing excitement. Besides, everything between he and Potter had always been violently passionate. And the man did whimper so prettily in the back of his throat when faced with whatever he'd uncovered in Draco's eyes, further inflaming his senses.

Pressing their bodies together, he groaned harshly, the air ripped from his lungs as their cocks slid along one another almost painfully, only a fine sheen of sweat and pre-come easing the abrasive friction between the two of them, and delighted in the strangled moan that slipped past the raven's lips as he captured them. The feeling of all that hot, slick flesh drove him crazy, catching every cell aflame, spilling desire into his veins like a molten river. It was just like he'd always envisioned between him and Potter – a spitting, biting, scratching, grappling bid for dominance.

Which made the other man's concession like honey on his tongue.

"Can't..." the brunet gasped, ferociously sinking his teeth into Draco's bottom lip, drawing blood and making him yelp indignantly. Smirking, Potter raked his hands over his torso, the callused tips of his fingers biting as he arched, the heavy press of cock to cock nearly incapacitating Draco as the brunet rasped sexily against his ear. "Can't wait to have your cock inside me."

The words were a sucker punch to the gut, rendering Draco completely speechless as he'd expected a bit more of a struggle; but he hadn't been sorted into Slytherin for no reason and he wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rolling his hips against the smirking man underneath him, a flash of triumph rippled across his nerves when Potter cried out, the smirk melting away as he bucked his hips helplessly, seeking more friction.

"Never took you for a bottom boy, Potty," he taunted gleefully, sinking his teeth into pink nipple as he bit his way down Potter's chest, almost losing himself in the taste (salt and sunshine), texture (satin) and smell (musk with a hint of apples and wood) of his skin.

"Don't get...fuck...don't get too excited, Ferret," the brunet rasped, his fingers sinking into pale, blond hair and twisting, clutching helplessly as Draco licked a strip down the faint trail leading to his groin. "I don't bottom exclusively."

Using the grip on his hair, Potter tugged Draco up his body and leaned up, sealing their mouths together in a fervid kiss that sent his head swimming and his toes curling, allowing Potter the upper hand as he wrapped and arm around Draco's waist and rolled them over, straddling his waist. No wilting flower or passive kitten this one – he gave his all and took as much as he gave.

"I just _really_ want cock tonight," Potter hissed quietly, flicking his tongue over the shell before his teeth sunk into the lobe, his hot breath whispering against his ear as he breathed fervently. "_Your_ cock."

Raking his nails over Draco's chest, Potter licked, sucked and bit a hot trail down it, his hands roaming all over his body voraciously, each touch and kiss branding him as deeply as when he claimed the brunet earlier. Gasping when Potter buried his nose into the coarse, blond curls at the apex of his thighs, he tangled his fingers into the thatch of wild curls Potter called hair, marveling at the silky texture, and tugged, trying to bring him back up his body.

"Filling me," Potter husked breathlessly, stubbornly refusing to relinquish his advantage and dipped his head to give Draco's leaking cock an experimental swipe of tongue. "Bringing that delicious burn."

Potter licked a long, wet stripe up his aching cock, stealing the breath from his lungs and chuckled when Draco's hips bucked reflexively; holding them still, he dipped his head again to brush a soft kiss on the crown, swirling his far too talented tongue over it and sucked it into his hot, moist mouth. Fuck, he had to find a way to halt this or it would be over before he even had a chance to sink balls deep into the perfectly formed arse that had him drooling all night.

"Stretching..." Potter breathed, sliding his hands over Draco's torso to tweak his nipples sharply, making Draco swear under his breath and scrabble at his shoulders as the brunet watched the flesh flush and peak temptingly. "Stretching me so full, I'm nearly coming from that alone."

Using Potter's momentary distraction against him, Draco flipped out from under him, grabbing the brunet around the waist and manhandled him onto his hands and knees; gliding his hands up his back, he molded himself to the slightly smaller man's body and slid his cock between Potter's thighs as he sunk his teeth into the crook of his neck, delighting in the heated moan the rumbled through the body beneath him.

"On your hands and knees, Potty," he taunted softly, relishing in the subtle bucking of hips that tried to dislodge him, but stilled when he thrust his pelvis softly, rubbing his cock against Potter's crack. Sliding one hand down his back, he traced a finger between the globes of Potter's arse, teasing the furled, pink hole and inhaled sharply when it met with slick, already stretched flesh, and growled appreciatively. "Dirty, little slut. Always figured you for a closet cock whore."

"Nothing in the closet about this, Malfoy," Potter grit between his teeth, arching his arse tauntingly, rubbing it teasingly against his cock while seeking more of Draco's probing fingers, choking back a whimper when he slid a single digit into that slicked, warm hole. "Now shut up and fuck me."

"If you insist..." he whispered, sliding a second finger in and pumping, circling and scissoring them to stretch him further, groaning when Potter's hips arched enticingly, a loud cry bubbling over his lips as his fingers scraped over that bundle of nerves.

Making quick work of stretching him, going up to three fingers as he rendered the man beneath him into a shivering, mewling mess, he slicked his cock, biting his lip to keep from whimpering and lined himself up at Potter's entrance, whispering fervently against his ear.

"Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll be feeling it for a week."

"Then stop prattling about it and do it..." Potter challenged, his words cut off by a gasp as Draco slid in, driving himself into that tight heat with one, smooth thrust, leaving the man beneath him trembling. "Oh fuck...fuck, fuck, fuck..."

"Gods," Draco gasped, clenching his eyes shut as the tight, hot sheath clamped around him reflexively at the unexpected intrusion. Panting softly, he froze, holding himself almost deathly still as he waited for Potter to adjust and for himself to gain a measure of control."So tight..."

Pressing a kiss against the sweaty nape of Potter's neck, he rubbed his back and sides soothingly, passing over the skin in light, teasing strokes, stoking the smoldering fire beneath it as he uncharacteristically whispered, "You okay?"

"Fine," Potter nodded, squirming deliciously under his hands and then arched his arse in invitation, impaling himself impossibly further on Draco's cock, drawing a long, rumbling moan from the back of his throat as the brunet demanded. "Fuck me, Malfoy...if you can."

"You'll pay for that, Potter," he growled, pulling back slowly until only an inch was sheathed, drawing the feeling out and the snapped his hips forward, slamming back into that tight heat, dragging another inarticulate cry from Potter. Smiling smugly when the man continued to whimper and rocked helplessly on Draco's cock, he experimented with angles until he found one that made the raven buckle with a keening cry. Clenching Potter's hips, he set a fast, driving, almost brutal pace, each whimper and cry from Potter fueling his own pleasure, lust singing through his veins like liquid fire.

Digging his fingers into Potter's skin, he moaned as the man began to shiver and tremble, signaling his impending climax and he sped up his thrusts, angling his cock so that it dragged over Potter's prostate, and gasped when the brunet cried out, his muscles clamping as he came with shuddering intensity, calling out Draco's name.

Biting his lip, he thrust a few more times, his strokes choppy and shallow, before own orgasm washed over him, exploding with an intensity he'd never felt before, his sight whiting out as wave after wave flooded him. Crying out, his eyes fluttered shut as he tensed, suspending over Potter's back as it drew out and then sunk bonelessly against it, breathing heavily. They lay like that for a few moments while catching their breaths, and then, with a whimper of discontent, Draco slid out of Potter, falling to the bed on his back, staring at that gorgeous, curled up figure in awe.

"Fuck," Potter muttered, uncurling himself and stretching his limbs out, falling next to him in a sated heap, the satisfied grin on his face belying the heated glare he tossed Draco's way. "I'm not going to be able to sit tomorrow, you bastard."

"That's what you get for being an insufferable tease tonight," he smirked, smoothing the thick black curls back from his boyfriend of two years face as he placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"Hey," Harry protested softly, tangling their fingers together as he tipped his head and captured Draco's lips in a chaste kiss. "Let me remind you that this was _your_ game. I was just playing along. Personally, I would have preferred staying home and fucking each others brains out, but _you_ wanted a chase. So I made damned sure you got your money's worth."

"It _was_ quite good," he hummed, smirking at the pouting brunet, stealing yet another kiss from those sardonic lips. "You almost had even me convinced with that reluctant victim act. You've gotten far too good at that."

"Glad I could satisfy your deviant streak," Harry rasped dryly, getting up with only the tiniest wince and walking towards the bathroom to wash up Draco presumed.

"And _don't_ think I didn't notice you lusting after that Weasley look alike," he called out, his tone faintly barbed as he recalled how his lover's eyes had hooded and he'd licked his lips as if picturing bedding the redheaded tramp.

"Like you weren't drooling yourself," Harry snorted, his voice echoing slightly within the confines of the bathroom. "I know better."

"Whatever," he groused, refusing to acknowledge the brunet's observation, even if it was the truth. He had to admit that he'd wanked a time or two after seeing the long-haired Weasley, but he'd deny it until he was blue in the face if someone were to call him on it. Then again, perhaps he could talk Harry into getting a couple of Weasley's hairs and having themselves a polyjuice night. "Just remember you're _mine_ and there will be no more than lusting involved."

"As if I could ever forget," Harry snickered softly, coming out of their bathroom and flicking a hand over the sheets to clean them, then used the same charm on Draco, eliciting a a small frisson of desire in the blond; he loved when Harry manipulated his magic that way. Opening his eyes when he felt lips on his, he responded in kind, enjoying the slow, sweet kiss as Harry whispered softly against his mouth. "Possessive prat. Next time, it's my turn."

"I look forward to whatever your warped Gryffindor brain dreams up," he replied, already anticipating this lover's next game, knowing that whatever it was, he'd enjoy it immensely.

"You still have your Slytherin Quidditch uniform, yeah?" Harry asked, a heated sparkle lighting his eyes and a deliciously wicked smile spreading across his face as he stared at Draco.

And he couldn't help but whimper helplessly under those devilishly glinting eyes, lust spiking through his system at the visuals that comment produced and thanked the stars once more for his gorgeous, adventurous Gryffindor lover.


	5. The Dance

**Title: **The Dance

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings:** Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words:** 2073

**Warnings: **Angst, Major Character Death (mentioned, not seen)

**Summary: **For a moment all the world was right...

**Author's Notes: **The next in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. Based on The Dance by Garth Brooks; this was actually a scene I had been planning for a larger one-shot based on GypsyRaeyven's Vincent video, but it didn't work into the flow of longer fic, which I hope to have finished soon. This takes place before the Great Battle.

* * *

**The Dance**

Harry stood on the threshold hesitantly, his eyes sweeping the room that had changed his life irrevocably, surprised to see it so well maintained, but he figured Dobby had been there, cleaning it routinely as a favor to his friend Harry Potter, on the off chance Harry might dredge up the nerve to visit one day. Once he'd walked out of Hogwarts, he'd swore that he'd never darken it's doors again, having lost so much of his innocence here. But the madman that called for his blood had seen to his breaking of that promise, threatening to destroy the place that he'd called home at one point in an effort to break public hope and draw out the resistance. And he couldn't allow Hogwarts to fall into his hands.

Stepping into the room, he startled when the candles lit automatically, casting a warm glow, but they didn't relieve the stark emptiness, and he had to close his eyes to it, his harsh breath bouncing off the barren walls, echoing the void that filled his heart. He'd hoped by taking his vigil here, he might feel closer to Draco, but all it did was cement the reality that he was gone. And that reminder felt as if someone had plunged a red-hot knife into his chest.

Ignoring the tear that leaked from the corner of his eye, pooling into the curve of his cheek, he inhaled deeply and opened his eyes, crossing the floor to sink into one of the oversized armchairs that had been left behind, resting his elbows on his knees and studied the remnants of a life so viciously cut short. The memories were strong here, seeming to whisper enticingly in his ear, teasing him with visions of a time when he'd felt hope and of a love so deep, he couldn't imagine living without it.

Swiping a hand over his damp face, he let out a shaky breath, his throat constricting as memories flit through the room, ghosts of conversations past preserved into the very walls, waiting to be relived by those who had created them. But he'd never dreamed that he'd be setting off on that journey alone; he'd expected Draco to be sitting at his side, each of them laughingly recalling some moment or comment, sharing a knowing smile with their hands clasped.

It was supposed to be them against the world.

He wasn't supposed to be sitting here, in a cold, empty room, clinging to the last vestiges of a time he'd been truly happy – the last time he'd felt any sort of joy, really.

It didn't seem fair. To have that brief taste of fulfillment, that brief moment of being on top of the world, only to have it all crash down around him.

Had he known that it would end this way, had he known what was going to happen, would he have done the things he'd done? Would he have stepped away, leaving Draco to face his fate, and potentially have him still alive, but as an enemy? Or would he have pressed on, but cherished those moments all the more for being so blessed to share them with Draco?

Some days, he just didn't know.

And then...then he'd remember the dance – one of those perfect, shining moments that had crystallized in his mind, and never seemed to relinquish its grasp on his heart no matter how he tried to shove the memories away for his own sanity. It had been one of those insanely blissful moments, where everything had felt right in the world. And he'd really had few of those moments, so his mind had latched onto the few and hoarded them, nurturing them so they remained bright, shining, pure, perfect.

He hadn't even wanted to dance that night, feeling lazy and self-conscious after the Yule Ball fiasco during his fourth year, but Draco wouldn't be deterred. And really, who could resist Draco when he poured on the charm? Certainly not him. From the moment they had kissed, Draco had owned him heart and soul, and the word no was a foreign concept.

Of course, now he cherished Draco's persistence.

_Harry was lying full-length on the couch, his head resting in Draco's lap, long fingers carding through his hair as they quietly watched the flames dancing on the hearth, content after a quiet meal together, away from the noise and harsh glare of the Great Hall. Closing his eyes, he hummed lazily as those soft fingertips reverently slid over his temple, dipping to trace his features, oddly reminiscent of that charged moment before they'd gotten together. But this time it was gentle, loving, tender and soothing, allowing him to sink deeper into that well of contentment._

_He did so love these moments with Draco._

_Pressing his cheek into the caress, he rubbed it against the soft digits, practically purring like a lazy cat when Draco obliged and stroked the skin. Drowning in bliss, he missed the soft question Draco posed, forcing him to open his eyes and focus hazily on glowing silver eyes, their brightness stealing his breath away and making his heart thrum madly._

"_What?" he asked breathlessly, endlessly caught in mercurial irises and flushed when Draco chuckled at his absorption, then leaned over and brushed a soft kiss against his lips._

"_Dance with me," Draco requested as he pulled away, arching a brow when Harry bit his lip uneasily and then let his breath out in a rush._

"_I don't think that's a good idea," he hedged, not exactly refusing the request, as he could never seem to tell Draco no outright, but also reluctant to concede. He was far from the world's greatest dancer and it always made him feel supremely awkward._

"_Why not?" Draco asked quietly, obviously not deterred in the least by Harry's hesitation._

"_You know I'll just end up bruising your toes, yeah?" he replied, the color in his cheeks deepening as he recalled poor Pavarti. "I mean you saw me at the Yule Ball. It was a nightmare."_

"_You'll be fine," Draco reassured, waving off Harry's misgivings with a careless swipe of his hand and stood, dislodging Harry's head; grabbing his hands, Draco tugged him into a sitting position, smiling at him winningly. "Dance with me."_

"_But there's no music..." he spluttered, desperately seeking for a reason to not make a fool of himself._

"_Who says we need any?" Draco huffed, tossing him a slightly exasperated glance as he tugged on his hands, pulling Harry reluctantly to his feet."But if you're that concerned with it, I'll hum. Now stop stalling and dance with me you idiot Gryffindor. What happened to your formidable courage?"_

"_All right," Harry sighed, unable to resist the blonde's goading and stepped into Draco's arms, sinking against the solid form as he groused. "But don't say I didn't warn you."_

" _Yes, yes, clumsy dancer, bruised toes..." Draco laughed, pressing his cheek to Harry's temple, brushing a kiss against the crest of his cheek."Just close your eyes and follow my movements. I'll suffer silently."_

"_Yeah, right," he grumbled, and glancing at his boyfriend doubtfully, he did as Draco requested, holding his breath, his body tense as he waited for Draco to move and shuffled nervously as the silence drug on. "I'll believe that when I see it."_

"_Relax," Draco whispered against his ear, soothing his hands over his back, rubbing away the tension as he began to quietly hum a tune that Harry didn't recognize. The combined actions were so effective in calming his nerves, he didn't even notice that they'd began to move, first in a gentle, shuffling of steps and then picking up in pace and fluidity as Draco guided him around the room. That is until Draco leaned back and smirked at him._

"_Not so bad, is it?"_

"_No," he huskily admitted, allowing himself to fall deeper into the enchantment Draco was weaving, caught once more in shining silver eyes as he followed Draco's movements, feeling as if his feet never once touched the ground as they slowly twirled and spun in intricate patterns. No one had ever made him feel this alive and wanted._

_Closing his eyes, he once again relinquished control to someone else, allowing them to guide his steps, but he didn't mind this dance due to the person doing the handling. It was intoxicating to give into someone he knew would never hurt him purposefully, would ever use him for their own gain, or try to fashion him into something he was not, without a thought of how the changes would affect the original._

_And it amazed him how much he trusted this man._

_Opening his eyes, he met molten silver and his heart swelled with emotions he was only just beginning to understand. Smiling, he brushed his fingers across Draco's jaw in wonder, falling just a little bit more in love when the blonde hummed in contentment and then pulled back, spinning him several times in quick succession, sending his head spinning dizzily. _

_Laughing joyfully when he came to a halt and stumbled into Draco's waiting arms, he knew that they would never let him fall as they wrapped around him, drawing him against a solid chest. Lacing his own arms around Draco's neck, he grinned, laughter still lighting their eyes as they continued to sway, neither wanting the moment to end._

_Harry tucked his head securely into Draco's shoulder, humming in the back of his throat when the blonde's arms tightened around him, pulling him deeper into his body. Eyes fluttering shut, he clenched his arms tighter around the taller boy's neck, his fingers lazily tangling into the fine hairs at his nape and finally admitted that while he'd never feel comfortable dancing, if it meant it gave him an excuse to hold the other boy in his arms, he'd gladly 'suffer' through it every day. _

_Giggling when Draco dipped his head and a fine strand of hair tickled his ear, he looked up, joy and love colliding messily in his chest as the blonde smiled, his own silver eyes alight with happiness._

Blinking rapidly as the images faded before his eyes, Harry sighed, the minute flare of joy and warmth falling away as he was faced with an empty, silent room. The pain never seemed to lessen as everyone promised when faced with a loss; if anything, it grew sharper, stronger, clawing at his insides until he was raw and bleeding, weary, ready to end it all and join Draco. But he had tasks yet to accomplish.

The time wasn't right; not yet, but soon.

"Cub," Remus called quietly, interrupting his vigil and bringing him back to the present, and the dauntless task he had to accomplish standing before him as Voldemort descended upon Hogwarts. Time to end this game. "It's time.

"I'll be right there, Remus," he replied softly, taking a deep, slow breath as he stared at the twinkling candlelight and remembered how they turned Draco's eyes a burnished silver. "I just need a moment to pull myself together."

"We'll be waiting for you in the Great Hall," Tonks responded, tugging on Remus' arm, dragging him away from the door, knowing that as much as his adopted godfather wanted to comfort him, he needed the solitude.

Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and swore he caught the faint hint of oranges and cedar dancing on the air, and felt the warm rush of breath as a slightly stubbly cheek pressed to his, and his breath hitched, as the taste of salted-caramels clung to his lips, faintly tasting of Draco's kiss. Opening his eyes, he stared at the room in wonder and felt a sweet rush of love as ghostly fingers ran through his hair.

Smiling tremulously, he stood, fortified by those loving touches and ready to face the world, knowing that Draco still awaited him. Spinning in a slow circle, his head swam slightly and he once again saw Draco's face before him, smiling, eyes glinting with laughter and a deep, abiding joy.

"For you, Vincent," he whispered to the room, his eyes misting as he took in his fill once last time and knew that it had all been worth it. He may have lost his heart here, but he had found something infinitely more precious – he had found Draco.

"Soon, Vincent, soon," he promised as he walked out the door, closing it gently behind him.


	6. If You're Not The One

**Title: **If You're Not the One

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words:** 5967

**Warnings: **Moderate angst

**Summary: **Despite having made no promises to each other, Harry is still stunned by Draco's announcement.

**Author's Notes: **The next in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. This is the first in a trilogy of connected ficlets and is a Harry POV. Based on the song _If You're Not The One_ by Daniel Bedingfield, which was oddly enough on my cousin's wedding CD and always seemed to have a weird contradiction of lyrics to me.

* * *

**If You're Not The One **

Harry stared at the Prophet, his heart clenching as the he read the headline; he had been expecting this any day given the whispers through the Ministry and through Diagon Alley, but part of him had been hoping that the rumors were wrong as rumors often were, but looking at the smiling face on its pages, he couldn't deny it any further. Draco was engaged to Astoria Greengrass, the potential perfect pureblood wife. Drawing a shaky breath, he traced the lines of that beloved face, his heart hitching as bright gray eyes turned to him, a flash of sadness filling their depths for one brief moment before he winked at Harry and turned away to face with whomever he was speaking to.

Really, he didn't know why he was so surprised or heartbroken to see Draco standing next to someone else, announcing his impending marriage. It wasn't as if they had made any promises to each other and they certainly hadn't seen much of each other since they had left school after their repeated seventh year. No one had even known they were a couple, so why had he expected that Draco would feel the same as he?

Balling the paper up, he tossed it in the trash, his breath hitching painfully in his chest as he stared out the window blankly, stubbornly refusing to give into the burn of tears in the back of his eyes. He hated crying and he didn't think that a broken heart based on dreams that neither party had actually spoken aloud was a good enough reason to give into them now. After all, he had no reason to expect a continuation of their short, albeit passionate, liaison.

But he _had_ hoped nonetheless; setting himself up for disappointment once again.

He'd never expected to fall in love with his ex-nemesis, but he couldn't help but admire the way Draco had refused to be bowed by public sentiment of his family, and freely admitted to his mistakes as a child under the influence of a madman and set about making amends, trying to become a better man. One that his descendents could be proud of; and when he stepped off the train, head raised proudly, but not arrogantly so, Harry had made his way across the platform and held out his hand, asking for a truce, hoping they could work together civilly.

It had become so much more, not that anyone ever saw that part of their relationship. And although he had acknowledged how attractive Draco was that first day, he'd still been taken by surprise when the friendship had morphed into something resembling love.

They had fought it at first, ignoring the growing attraction between them, both fearful that it would ruin the tentative friendship they had built, but as things have a way of doing, it came to a head one night. Harry had been out wandering, unable to sleep after a particularly vivid dream about the boy he had been avoiding the past few days, trying to wrap his head around the growing feelings for the blond, only to run into the focus of his thoughts. Literally.

_Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair, even as he kept the invisibility cloak wrapped around it, not wanting to run into anyone despite the fact he was allowed to roam the halls as he chose being of age and not really part of the regular curriculum. He had never felt so confused in his life. He knew what he was experiencing, but he'd never dreamed that he'd feel it for a boy, and Draco Malfoy in particular. It didn't make sense._

_He kept his eyes trained on the ground, a hazard he was sure as he wouldn't see anyone coming, but he wasn't really wasn't expecting to run into anyone this late at night anyway. Few people roamed the halls at this time and he was safely under his cloak, which is why it was a shock when he impacted with something warm and solid in his path. Gasping softly as the wind was knocked out of him, he stumbled and fell onto his back, luckily still covered by his cloak. Raising his eyes, his breath hitched when they met briefly with silver as they swept the corridor, Draco's wand snapped in front of him, sweeping in an arc as he searched for his 'assailant.' _

"_Who...who's there?" the blond bit out, his eyes darting through the seemingly empty space surrounding him, his lips compressed into a thin, white line. "Come out, whoever you are. I know you're there and I won't hesitate to curse you into next week if you don't show your face."_

"_Shhhh..." Harry hissed, pulling the cloak from his head as he stood, dusting himself off in an effort to get his heartbeat under control. The last thing he needed was to be faced with the star of his very heated, very erotic dreams whilst utterly confused about what to do about him. "For Merlin's sake, you'll wake the whole bloody castle and I'd prefer not to have McGonagall rushing to your defense thinking that you're being assaulted by an intruder."_

"_Harry?" Draco queried softly, dropping his wand slightly, but still studying him suspiciously. _

"_Yes, it's me," Harry replied shortly, walking towards the taller blonde, only to find himself at wand point once more._

"_How do I know it's really you?" Draco asked doubtfully, keeping a healthy distance between them. "For all I know, you could have somehow gotten your hands on Potter's hair and cloak and polyjuiced yourself into him, just waiting for me to drop my guard so you can attack me."_

"_Oh for...you are so damned paranoid sometimes," Harry groused, running a hand through his hair impatiently. "Fine, in first year, you caught me, Ron and Hermione out past curfew; we were out there helping Hagrid and Charlie Weasley remove a baby dragon from the premises after Hagrid had hatched it from an egg given to him by Quirrell. In second year, Ron and I polyjuiced ourselves into Crabbe and Goyle in order to sneak into the Slytherin common room to find out what you knew about the Heir of Slytherin; Hermione was supposed to join us, but she accidentally polyjuiced herself into Bulstrode's cat. In third year..."_

"_Enough, enough..." Draco waved his hand, storing his wand away as the stories confirmed Harry's identity; all stories Harry had shared with him at some point but for which only a handful knew the actual details. "I believe you."_

"_So glad I could ease your mind," Harry deadpanned, shrinking his cloak and storing it in his pocket as the blond walked closer, his stomach flipping over at the soft scent of citrus and cedar washing over his senses as Draco drew abreast of him. _

"_You're out late," Draco commented rhetorically, leaning against the wall in front of Harry, his features visibly softening as he studied the fidgeting brunet. "Couldn't sleep?"_

"_Uh...n-no..." Harry stammered, his cheeks flushing as he recalled just what had driven him from his bed, and his body heated, the suppressed lust from earlier curling low in his gut and spreading out in thin tendrils through his body, making him all too aware of the boy in front of him. "No, I couldn't."_

"_Nightmares?" Draco gently asked, moving forward to tuck a strand of raven hair behind Harry's ear, eliciting a frisson anxiety and excitement that spiraled across Harry's nerves. Was he even aware of what he was doing to him?_

"_Not...exactly," Harry replied, refusing to elaborate even when the blond arched a brow and he squirmed under that probing gaze, but Draco only nodded and dropped the subject, obviously sensing Harry's reluctance to discuss his dreams._

"_I haven't seen you in a few days," Draco commented softly, a shard of hurt and bewilderment coloring his tone despite his cool countenance and he bit his lip, frowning slightly as he met Harry's eyes questioningly. Most people would look at him and see someone unaffected by the absence, but Harry had gotten to know him so well, he could see the hint of insecurity lurking behind that unconcerned mask and instantly felt bad._

"_Yeah, sorry," he apologized, giving the other boy a weak smile as he rubbed the back of his neck uneasily. He hadn't really been prepared to address this right now, but he also hadn't meant to hurt Draco with his absence. "I just needed some time to think."_

"_About?" Draco closed the distance between them, standing just inches from Harry, sending his heart racing madly. Tipping his head back, he silently studied the other boy for a long moment, internally debating the pros and cons of admitting what had been preying on his mind when he swore he saw a familiar emotion flicker in Draco's eyes and he came to the decision to just go for it. _

_He hadn't been sorted into Gryffindor for nothing._

"_You," Harry murmured breathlessly, dropping his eyes to his toes and a delicate pink suffused his cheeks as Draco's breath hitched at his confession._

"_Me," Draco replied, a faint question at the end of the statement. Harry shifted uneasily, keeping his gaze averted even as Draco sought it, reaching out a hesitant hand to slide his fingers under Harry's chin and tipped his head back. "Harry?"_

_Harry raised his eyes, his breath catching when silver seemed to blaze with an inner heat that tripled Harry's heartbeat and he licked his lips nervously, his lashes fluttering shut as Draco's head dipped and soft lips brushed softly over his._

Touching his mouth gently, Harry closed his eyes, his stomach swirling sickly as he thought of someone else kissing those sinfully soft lips, his lips burning at the memory of their first kiss. He swayed slightly, his knees weakening and he caught himself on the edge of the table, turning his eyes away from the rubbish bin. It had been just as much his fault that nothing went beyond that year. He had remained silent about his growing feelings, hoping that Draco would give some indication of his own, but nothing ever came of it and they went their separate ways.

He couldn't help but wonder, if he had been just a bit stronger, if he had said something, would he be standing here cold and alone while Draco moved on with his life or would Draco be sitting at his table, smiling lazily as Harry prepared a late breakfast.

Sighing heavily, he reached back into the rubbish bin and pulled out the parchment he'd just tossed in there and smoothed it out, looking at Draco's face somberly. Reaching out a trembling finger, he traced those impossibly silken lips and let out a watery chuckle as picture Draco preened under the touch, his eyes tearing as he set the Prophet aside and walked away, his heart an open wound as he got ready for the day.

* * *

Harry stared at the creamy envelope in his shaky fingers, his heart racing with both anticipation and dread as he recognized the elegant script flowing across the sumptuous parchment and instinctively knew that whatever Draco had written would simultaneously bring him joy and break his heart. Tracing the cultured curls and strokes of green ink, he recalled how Draco favored that particular color above all others in eighth year, not because of his House as many thought but because it reminded him of Harry's eyes. He smiled softly at the memory and flipped it over, taking in the Malfoy crest and steeled himself, telling himself to just get on with it already.

Sliding his finger under the flap, he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment with a deep breath, his eyes scanning the script quickly before his eyes dropped closed and the paper fluttered out of his fingers, tears prickling in the backs of his eyes. He had been right, the words had made him glow inwardly, but at the same time his heart shattered.

Inhaling sharply, he fought back the tears threatening to fall and stooped, scooping up the letter and staggered back, sitting heavily in the chair behind him. Bringing it in view, Harry dropped his head in his hand and read the letter again, a bit slower this time, wondering just how he was going to deal with Draco's request.

_Dear Harry,_

_It's been a while since we've seen each other, but you've been in my thoughts lately. I wanted to see if you had the time to meet up for a drink and to catch up. I miss talking to you and few of my other friends really understand where I am coming from these days._

_As you've probably read, I'm engaged. Father negotiated a contract with the Greengrass family and it seems that Daphne's little sister Astoria is to be my wife. It's not a love match, but I really didn't expect to marry for love given the history of arranged marriages in my family. But my parents were reasonably happy together, and I hope that Astoria and I will eventually find a measure of comfort, if not love, in each other._

_Harry, you were the first person I thought of when my father told me about the contract, for multiple reasons, but the reason for this missive is, I'd really like it if you would stand up for me. In that last year, you truly became my best friend and I can't imagine having anyone else at my side._

_Please let me know if you have the time to meet and perhaps honor my request._

_Faithfully Yours,_

_Draco_

Harry clenched his eyes, pressing his hand against them as his other hand dropped in defeat, taking the letter with it, lying limply against his side. Rubbing his hand over his face to soothe the ache building behind his eyes, he sat back and stared out at his living room blankly, his mind whirling. On the one hand, hearing that Draco had been thinking of him and considered him to be the only one to stand by his side filled him with happiness, but the reason behind the letter sliced through him like a knife.

Clenching his hand into a fist, he really wished he could be the bigger person and readily agree to standing by Draco's side as he took his vows with Astoria, but Harry didn't think he would be able to do it without wanting to interfere and protest the union no matter the promise he made Draco to always stand by his side.

"_Harry?" Draco whispered into the dark, his chin resting on Harry's chest as they laid, curled up on a couch in the room of requirement, both staring at the crackling fire lazily, drowning in contented bliss after having made love for the first time._

"_Hmmm?" he hummed quietly, his lashes drooping as a dreamy lethargy settling into his bones and he lazily dragged his fingers through fine, golden hair._

"_Do you ever wonder what's after this?" Draco asked, tracing abstract patterns over Harry's chest as he flicked his eyes up to the brunet, catching hazy green eyes as Harry opened his eyes slowly._

"_Sometimes," Harry carefully replied, waking up a degree at the question._

"_You think we'll still be...friends after the year ends," Draco asked, his tone carefully blank as if he was shielding against a potential massive disappointment._

"_Of course," Harry replied, his brow furrowing as his hazy brain tried to make sense of Draco's question and wondering at what he wasn't saying with that statement. Sometimes, he felt as if Draco was speaking in a code he couldn't decipher. "I don't plan on going back to...strangers. Unless you want to?"_

"_No, of course I don't want that," Draco reassured hastily, kissing Harry softly on the chest before he lapsed into silence._

_Harry laid there, his mind frantically going over the conversation, sensing he had missed something important in that exchange, but unable to muddle through it in his current state of mind. Of course he still planned to be with Draco; he wouldn't give up his virginity to just anyone, but he couldn't help but wonder if they were assuming the same things, but he was hesitant to ask the blond to clarify._

"_Harry?" Draco asked again._

"_Yes?" he replied quietly._

"_No matter what happens," Draco responded, bracing himself on his hands to look down into Harry's eyes, his bottom lip clamped between his teeth. "Promise me you'll always be here."_

"_You know I can't make that promise," Harry sighed, wanting to make the promise outright, but experience had taught him that life was far too uncertain to making such blanket assurances. "There may be things beyond my control..."_

"_Promise me that you'll be here if you can," Draco interrupted, taking his hand in his and squeezing it gently as he placed a small kiss to the knuckles._

"_Of course, if I can at all possibly be there," Harry promised, drawing their clasped hands to his lips a brushing a kiss against Draco's knuckles in response, thinking that he understood what Draco was asking. "I would stand by your side always if I had anything to say about it."_

He fervently wished he had pushed through his drowsiness that night; that he had pursued and clarified Draco's meaning and that he made sure they had been on the same page rather than leave in a cloud of uncertainty when they left school and then drifted with the occasional letter and meeting. He had been so hopeful the first time they had met up again a few days after they left, only to be faced with a contained Draco that sat across from him and kept things on a friendly, but cooler note.

It had broken his heart, but he kept that to himself and kept the meeting on the amicable note that the blond had set and promised himself that he wouldn't push Draco for more than he obviously wanted.

Rising unsteadily, he made his way over to his desk and sat down, pulling out some ink and parchment, and stared at it for a long moment as he pulled together his thoughts. He had promised to stand by Draco, but he just couldn't stand by and watch him marry another. He was afraid of what he might do or say when faced with the actual event.

Drawing a shaky breath, he wrote a light note congratulating him on his impending marriage and offered up his regrets at being unable to stand up for him, siting work obligations even as it was tearing him apart inside, and sealed it, sending it off with a heavy heart, knowing that this would hurt the blond but more concerned about how badly he might hurt him pulling out at the last minute.

* * *

Laughing at something Ron said, Harry turned his head to the left, freezing in his tracks, the sound dying on his lips as he spied the very person he had been trying to avoid thinking about and it was a sucker punch to the gut, ripping the air from his lungs. Draco was a ways in the distance, a gentle smile on his face as he looked into the pretty one beaming up at him.

Swallowing thickly, he ripped his gaze away, the strength sapping from his muscles as he fruitlessly blinked back the haze of tears that pricked at the back of his eyes; closing them, he swayed slightly, oblivious to the concerned chattering at his side. He had obviously been aware that they were together, but being faced with the reality of it was another thing. It was far too easy to lie to oneself when it was a nebulous rumor or abstract event, but when it smacked you in the face, there was nowhere to hide.

Turning back to Draco, he inhaled shakily, his heart thudding painfully as he noted the changes in his appearance. His hair was longer, touching his shoulders and looked as silky and soft as when he used to run his fingers through it; and his face and body had filled out, losing that pinched, wan look, softening those sharp edges. He was still heartbreakingly beautiful; and the sight of him sent Harry's heart and stomach fluttering in tandem, leaving him breathless and lightheaded. It didn't seem fair that the blond still had this affect on him when he had so obviously moved on.

Watching silently as Draco dipped his head and pressed a laughing kiss to his pretty bride's cheek , Harry's heart seized, pain sluicing through his chest in a sharp, cold wave, leaving him bleeding and broken inside, the last strings of hope snapping audibly as Draco and Astoria entered a shop known for their wedding robes.

He remembered all too well when _he_ had been on the other end of those soft looks and gentle kisses.

_Harry tugged at his hair absently as he tried to make sense of the text in front of him, thankful that the 'eighth-year' boys dorm was silent for once. He really needed to get this information down before Thursday as they had an important practical and theory exam in Potions that Friday. And now that he didn't have the Prince's book, lost in the fire that gutted the Room of Hidden Things, he had to work three times as hard to understand and retain the material. Of course, it didn't help that according to Snape's notes, none of the recipes were accurate in the written text._

"_Potions, Potter?" a drawling voice whispered near his ear, startling him out of his thoughts and his eyes flicked up in surprise to find Draco sitting on the bed next to him. He hadn't even heard the other boy's arrival. "I expected you to be out on the pitch with the rest of our lot on such a fine day."_

"_Can't," he groused, sighing explosively and rubbing his scar absently, already feeling the beginnings of a headache. "We have that test on Friday and I really need to do well. My entrance into the auror program hinges on getting at least an Exceeds in this class, but none of this makes sense to me."_

"_You have always been a mess when it comes to potions; it's a wonder you made it this far without killing us all," Draco teased, the lack of heat in his tone alerting Harry that he wasn't serious in his insult. Smiling wanly at the blond boy, his eyes fluttered shut when Draco dipped down and placed a soft, laughing kiss on his lips._

_Humming with contentment, Harry parted his lips and moaned quietly when a warm, soft tongue slipped between them, stroking languidly along his and bringing with it the taste of oranges, chocolate and something indistinct but uniquely Draco. He was certain he could spend the rest of his life drowning in these honeyed kisses._

_Pulling back, Draco rested his head against Harry's, a soft smile touching his mouth as he brushed a light kiss over Harry's nose, grinning unrepentantly when Harry scrunched it in distaste._

"_Come on, scoot over," Draco said, climbing onto the bed next to Harry, taking the stack of parchment sitting next to him into his lap and looking through them. "Let's see if we can make some sort of logical order of this mess, so that you won't be stuck here for the next lifetime._

Pressing his lips together, he valiantly fought back his tears, but quickly lost the battle and knew that he had to get out of there before he made a complete fool of himself. All he needed was a picture splashed across the front page of the Prophet, speculating about their crying Savior. He had to leave – go anywhere that didn't ring of Draco and their short-lived relationship. Maybe he'd finally take that break everyone tried to talk him into – leave England for a while. Staring blankly at the blond's departing back, a peculiar numbness washed over him, leaving him sapped of energy as a single tear streaked down his cheek, and utterly gutted that Draco hadn't looked his way even once.

He couldn't do this anymore.

"I have to go," he mumbled, swiping the tear from his cheek, his mind scrambling with what he saw and turning over the idea that had just newly attached itself to his brain, brushing past a protesting Ron and a concerned Hermione.

"Harry, wait," Hermione called, hurrying after him and latching onto his wrist, halting his escape as he couldn't bring himself to hurt his friend even if he felt as if the world had fallen out beneath him. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"It's nothing, 'Mione," he rasped, keeping his eyes averted, knowing that if he were to look his friend in the eye, he'd fall apart and she would quickly put the pieces together as she always did. "I just need to take care of something. I'll talk to you guys later, yeah?"

"Don't you lie to me Harry James Potter," Hermione chided, retaining hold on his arm and grabbing his chin in her hand to turn it and force him to meet her eyes. "I know you better than that."

"Hermione, please, just..." he replied brokenly, letting his eyes meet hers and his breath hitched painfully when he heard her gasp softly, a calculating gleam filling those gentle brown eyes as she looked between him and the shop where Draco had disappeared. "Not now okay? Please, 'Mione, not now. I have to..."

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered, her eyes flashing with concern and sympathy for her friend as she worked the problem out in her far too agile and perceptive mind.

"What?' Ron asked as he watched the two of them, his confused blue gaze dancing between his girlfriend and best friend curiously, and completely oblivious to the undercurrents as always, huffed when Hermione waved the question off.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Hermione asked, looking slightly hurt that Harry hadn't confided in her as he usually did.

"I didn't know what to say," Harry replied quietly, a dull ache resounding in his heart as he flicked a nervous glance towards the wedding shop, desperately wanting to leave before Draco and Astoria emerged and he was forced to exchange pleasantries with the man he loved and the woman who replaced him. "You were busy and it wasn't like we said anything to anyone. It was a secret."

"Told us what?" Ron asked in exasperation, frowning when Hermione continued to ignore him in favor of studying Harry. "What was a secret?"

"Not now, Ron," Hermione groused, flicking him an impatient moue, which caused the redhead frown to deepen and he flounced off, muttering something about visiting George. Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned back to Harry. "You know I wouldn't have said anything."

"I know but..." Harry trailed off, a sense of panic feeling his heart the more time ticked away and he flicked another distressed glance at the shop. "Please not now, 'Mione. I don't want to...I can't be here when..."

"Okay," Hermione replied softly, running a soothing hand over his arm and bit her lip before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "We'll talk later okay? I'll come over and make dinner; you can tell me all about it then."

"Yeah, okay," he replied, relieved that she wasn't going to force an answer out of him then and there as she would have two years ago; but then again, they'd all changed since the war.

"And don't worry," she smiled wearily, flicking a glance into the direction her boyfriend had stomped off. "I'll deal with Ron so you don't have to listen to him."

"Thanks, 'Mione," he replied, smiling weakly as he bussed her cheek and then turned, heading away from the busy center of the alley, desperately trying to keep his emotions in check.

Walking swiftly towards the Apparation point, he turned around and stared at the alley one last time, a bittersweet ache filling his heart as he realized what he had to do if he were to find any sense of peace. Looking back at the robe shop, he swore he saw a flash of pale blond hair in the window, staring out at him, but figured it was a figment of his imagination. Wishful thinking. Blowing a kiss towards the shop, he mentally whispered 'goodbye' and spun on his heel, apparating away, taking himself to the Ministry of Magic to resign his spot in the auror program.

* * *

"Winky," Harry called as he did a walk through of his house, making a mental list of everything that still needed to be done before he left and sighed, running a weary hand through his already mussed curls. He hadn't realize just how much work went into closing up a household for an extended period of time until he was faced with it, but knew that in the end, the snap decision he'd made just two weeks ago was well worth it.

After he left Diagon, he went straight to the aurors office to inform Gwaine that he was resigning his post, siting personal reasons. Unfortunately, what he hadn't counted on, was Kingsley, the newly elected Minister of Magic, had already being there going over some of the new security measures the Ministry was implementing in the wake of Voldemort – periodical, random checks for imperious or other compulsions on personnel, Veritaserum testing on potential employees for sensitive positions and a deeper monitoring of every department.

To say that neither were happy with Harry's decision was a vast understatement. Gwaine was disappointed, having frequently stated that Harry was the most promising of his recruits, but Kingsley was upset and worried, having spent countless hours discussing the auror corps with Harry and he knew how much Harry had wanted to be a part of it. So, he was well aware that it had to take something drastic for Harry to suddenly change his mind and resign his position.

It had taken him an hour to make it known that he was very serious about his decision and no amount of arguing or offers to sweeten the pot would change his mind. He needed a break. Which is when Kingsley eyed him shrewdly and made a counter offer. He had been screening and interviewing various employees to act as diplomats to various countries, and rather than take a full resignation, offered him one of the diplomat spots, in the country of his choosing.

Harry had been extremely doubtful of the offer, to say the least. He wasn't known for his patience or his even temper and was certain he'd make a hash of it. But Kingsley quickly pointed out his work instructing the DA plus his running of the Order of the Phoenix after Dumbledore's death made him more than qualified, as it took great strength of character and patience to get so many different factions and personalities to gather and cooperate peacefully.

He still had his doubts, feeling it was actually more Hermione that kept them all together, but accepted the position nonetheless as it meant a two-year stint in a country that didn't remind him of Draco at every turn.

"Master Harry?" Winky called softly, alerting Harry that she'd been trying to get his attention for some time while he'd been lost in his thoughts.

"Sorry, Winky," he replied, shaking off the pensive feeling that had settled on him and turning to the room. "Got lost in my thoughts. Okay, for this room, I want all of the furniture covered with dust cloths and the trinkets on on the mantel need to be packed into boxes and set in the attic. The pictures should be wrapped and packed into the green trunk; and all the books on the table, with the exception of the two on Italy, need to be returned to Hermione."

"Yes, Master Harry," Winky nodded emphatically, setting to work packing the photos carefully into the trunk, which popped into existence out of thin air. "Winky is being doing that now."

Harry smiled and shook his head at the elf's enthusiasm; Hermione had been upset when he bound Winky to him, but even she had to grudgingly admit that Winky was much happier these days and that some elves truly did prefer the life of servitude to being free. Especially ones like Winky that had served a family for decades before being unwillingly displaced.

Walking back into his room, he continued packing his clothing, most of which was brand new as Hermione and Ginny refused to have him show up in ragged robes and less than fine clothing. ('You're representing Britain, after all, Harry, and it won't do to have you looking scruffy and dressed like a street urchin!') He did have to admit that they had a point. He had enough money between the Potter and Black fortunes that he never had to work a day if he chose and there was no reason for him to keep wearing the rags his aunt and uncle had so _lovingly_ bestowed on him.

He was nearly done with the first trunk when he felt his wards ping, stretching a bit before they accepted the person who'd just entered his house with the audible pop of Apparation. Furrowing his brow, he rose to his feet, wondering just who had entered his home without announcing themselves; only a handful or so people were built into the wards for uninhibited entrance and he hadn't been expecting anyone until later that evening for his farewell dinner. Walking towards the door, he froze, the blood icing in his veins before it heated, warming him from the inside out as a familiar voice echoed down the hallway.

"Potter?" a low, harassed voice called down the corridor, making Harry clench his eyes and flinched when the annoyance in the tone climbed, sharpening drastically when he questioned Winky. "Where is your master? Well? Why are you still standing there? Go up and get him."

Draco.

"Yes, master, sir," Winky squeaked, and Harry could almost see her wringing her hands nervously, her head bobbing in acknowledgment. "Winky be getting Master Harry. Can Winky be asking master's name?"

"It's not important," Draco cried impatiently, and Harry was once again struck by the sharpness of the tone, but this time he could also detect a note of desperation entwined with it. "Never mind, I'll find him myself."

Harry leaned against the door heavily, his heart thudding in his ears and his stomach churned, leaving him light-headed and disoriented and scrambling for understanding in his chaotic thoughts. He hadn't expected to see him again once he had left Diagon Alley; in fact, he'd avoided any place he thought he might see Draco in the hopes of avoiding the inevitable questions about his leaving the aurors after the Prophet had announced his new position.

"Potter, I know that you're here," Draco called, his heavy steps pounding on the stairs, making Harry's heartbeat triple and he shook himself out of his daze, and entered the hallway, a confused moue pinching his face as he met stormy gray eyes, asking the question preying on his mind.

"Draco, what are you doing here?"


	7. You're All I Need

**Title: **You're All I Need

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words:** 6844

**Warnings: **Moderate angst

**Summary: **Draco knows he should do the right thing, but Harry's news throws him for a loop and makes him reconsider his stance.

**Author's Notes: **The next in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. This is the second in a trilogy of connected ficlets and is a Draco POV. Based on Eyes of Grace by Enation.

* * *

**You're All I Need**

Draco gazed out the window for what seemed like the hundredth time, cool gray eyes seeking out the familiar brown and white feathers of his owl and cursed under his breath when the skies turned up empty once more; he was being obsessive about it and he knew it, but he had sent the owl out hours ago and expected an answer by now. Letting his breath out in an inaudible sigh, he turned back to the chattering women, his face inscrutable and barely bit back a huff of irritation at the endless wedding babble.

He'd known that being the Malfoy heir, he was expected to marry and produce yet another pure-blood heir of his own to make sure his long, prestigious line continued, but he had absolutely no interest in these proceedings; especially as he felt nothing for the pretty brunette at his side. He couldn't muster up even a milligram of excitement for the coming event or even any attraction for the woman who was to be his wife; if anything, it felt like a noose were being tied around his neck, tightening with every passing minute, making it difficult to breathe.

And even if he could muster up some interest in Astoria, or any woman for that matter, it wouldn't have mattered in the end; his bride-to-be would never touch his heart as it had been stolen away long ago by a man with bright, green eyes and a wild thatch of impossible curls.

Sighing, he focused on the conversation swirling around him for a brief moment, sneering internally as they debated, of all things, about the appropriate paper for the invitations; all the while avoiding his mother's far too perceptive gaze. Honestly, who really cared what paper the invitations were printed on? The differences were so subtle, and therefore insignificant, that it made this entire debate pointless. He was tempted to just put his foot down, lean over and select something just so he could be done with this nauseatingly dull topic and dink his tea in peace.

Taking a sip of said tea, his eyes were inevitably drawn back to the window, searching the sky for his owl, his heart sinking a little more with every minute that passed without word from Harry. He had written to him, hoping that the other man would consent to stand with him on his wedding day, damning what his parents or friends thought, and was nervous about the lack of response. And truthfully, the place he was offering Harry, wasn't the one he wanted to see him standing; if he could swap Astoria's and Harry's spots, he would be ecstatic...but he still needed an heir and...and Harry couldn't provide that no matter how he wished to bond to the brunet.

He hadn't expected to fall in love with Harry, but there it was – he was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with the Savior of the Wizarding World. Didn't life suck? He'd been smitten since the moment he'd seen Harry walking down the platform at the start of eighth year, looking hale and hearty, the shadows washed from those captivating eyes and a joyful, carefree smile pasted on pink lips.

_Draco stepped off the train slowly, squaring his shoulders as he saw distrustful, uneasy glances tossed his way and ignored the hostile whispers of others; he honestly hadn't expected to be back here this year given everything he had done prior to and during the war. So, when the letter had come inviting him to complete his interrupted seventh year with others who had missed it, he'd stared at it in utter disbelief. It had taken him a full week to accept that it wasn't a cruel joke and an additional week before he'd decided to accept the opportunity offered by Headmistress McGonagall._

_He knew this would be a challenge, but he was looking forward to it; to having a school year where he could be an ordinary student and not have the unrealistic expectations of his parents, their associates and a complete madman hovering over his head._

_Inhaling deeply, he startled when the murmuring picked up around him, taking on a different note altogether as heads swiveled to something, or someone, located down the platform. Turning his own head out of curiosity, the murmuring and excited whispers made sense – there stood Potter in all his glory, looking like Draco had never seen him before. He stood tall; no more hunching as if waiting for a blow out of no where, and his eyes sparkled with a deep, inner contentment that made something twinge in Draco's gut. His hair, longer than he'd ever worn it, was still messy, but in a sculpted way, the one that most people spent hours to recreate, but he was certain Potter had rolled out of bed that way. And he was wearing clothing that fit him like a glove._

_Draco had to admit that he made for a formidable sight._

_Watching as the Savior (as he'd been dubbed by the Prophet) walked down the platform with his sidekicks, Draco froze, his breath catching in the back of his throat, when those incredible eyes, unhampered by glasses, flicked up and caught his, a slow, sweet smile spreading across those impossibly pink lips. Licking his own nervously, he held Potter's gaze, slightly dazed by its impact and wondered what he'd done to deserve that soft look. Potter had never looked at him with anything other than anger and contempt and he couldn't help but feel alarmed with the change._

_Stepping in front of Draco, Potter nodded to Granger and the Weasel, waving them off with an easy flick of his hand, even as their suspicious gazes darted between him and Potter; well, at least some things had remained the same. Good to know he hadn't stepped into a total alternate universe. Turning back to Potter, he cocked a brow at the genial smile on the brunet's face, all too aware of the breathless anticipation of their classmates as they watched what they likely expected to be another charged confrontation between the two rivals._

_It was a shame they were destined to walk away disappointed; he had mentally made his peace with Potter months ago._

"_Malfoy," Potter greeted, his voice having deepened to a rich baritone in his absence, making a shiver dance down Draco's spine._

"_Potter," he nodded, keeping his voice even and amicable despite the fluttering in his stomach and heart, making breathing slightly difficult._

"_You're looking well," Potter replied, his eyes flicking over Draco, taking in his newly tailored clothing and his complexion, which was still a bit wan after over a year in the Dark Lord's service, but was rapidly improving now that the megalomaniac was dead._

"_As do you," Draco returned politely, a flush coloring his cheeks at Potter's frank appraisal, his mind whirling as he tried to make sense of this meeting, as well as, why those eyes were doing funny things to him after all these years._

"_Well it was about time that I took an interest in my appearance, yeah?" Potter chuckled softly, a self-deprecating smile curling his lips, his eyes twinkling with mischief (and wasn't that a far too appealing sight) as he raked a hand through those artfully tousled curls, a glint of emerald peaking coyly through sooty lashes._

_Draco inhaled sharply at the gaze, a frisson of want singing along his nerves as it met with his and he couldn't help but wonder at the surreality of Potter, of all people, possibly flirting with him. Maybe he _had _woken up in an alternative universe. Licking his lips, he froze when Potter followed the movement with his eyes, unconsciously mimicking the action, and then cleared his throat and met Draco's wide-eyed gaze._

"_Look, what I wanted to talk to you about," Potter continued, fidgeting slightly at Draco's silent perusal. "Is, I'd like it if we could put the past behind us...possibly. Turn over a new leaf, yeah? I know we're both likely to be swamped with studying for NEWTs and...well...I don't know. I guess after everything that happened...I'd hoped..."_

_Merlin, the man really was far too adorable for his own good._

"_Articulate as ever, Potter," he couldn't help but snark, instantly regretting his sharp tongue when Potter's face fell and started to close off. Smiling to soften his words, he held out his hand as he'd done many years before, hoping he wasn't setting himself up for a downfall. "But I happen to agree with your bumbling assessment. Truce?"_

"_Truce," Potter agreed, his smile blinding in its intensity, and shook his hand, filling Draco with an inexplicable hunger._

Mentally shaking himself out of his reverie, his face lit up when he finally spied the animal he'd been desperately searching for, holding up his arm as it flew in, and petting the feathers softly, relinquished it of its burden. Stroking the feathers once last time, he fed it a piece of biscuit before sending it on its way to the owlery. Flipping the letter over, his heart stuttered at the familiar writing and stood, garnering the attention of the women still chattering about wedding plans.

"Pick whatever you like, darling," he said smoothly, not even certain what they were discussing, nor did he care; he had something far more pressing to attend to. Inclining his head courteously at his mother, Astoria and Lady Greengrass, he made his excuses. "I must take care of this, so if you ladies will excuse me. Enjoy the rest of your tea."

Striding away as Astoria and her mother waved him off, he once again avoided observant, ice-blue eyes and headed for his suite, not wanting to share the contents of the missive with anyone, both anticipating and dreading what news it might bring. Locking himself in his rooms, he stared at the parchment, almost reluctant to open it now that it had arrived. Irritated with himself, he huffed and broke the seal, his eyes traveling over the chicken scratch Harry called writing, the hope draining from his eyes.

_Dear Draco,_

_Felicitations on your engagement. Wow, it seems so sudden, but I guess you've likely had this contract signed since birth or something. But if it makes you happy, then I am happy for you._

_It has been a while since we've seen each other, but you know how that goes – auror training, remodeling the house and all those bloody, boring Ministry meetings, conferences and gatherings. Sometimes I feel as if my life is just one big Ministry event. I often feel like I should just give up my home and set up residence in my office with as often as I'm there. I'm sure you've been similarly busy with your potions mastery and impending nuptials...wow. I still can't believe it._

_As for standing up for you, as much as I'd like to, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. Training has been brutal and I'm often called away unexpectedly, and I'd hate to commit to the event, only to miss it due to circumstances beyond my control._

_Just know, that even if I'm not there physically, I'm always by your side. We'll have to get together soon._

_All my love,_

_Harry_

Closing his eyes, he ignored the burn of tears in his eyes; he'd almost expected this, but it still hurt. Crumpling the letter in his hand, he opened his eyes and threw it into the air, casting an _incendio_, only feeling faint pang of regret as he watched the parchment ignite and burn to nothing but ashes; much like the way he his heart felt. Stalking over to his desk, he pulled out a decanter of firewhiskey and a tumbler, pouring two fingers worth before slamming it back; attributing the tears falling over his cheeks to the burn of the alcohol and definitely _not_ the pain that lanced his heart from Harry's rejection.

* * *

Draco had seen Harry before the brunet had even registered his presence, too busy laughing at something the Weasel had said and his heart fluttered, torn between joy at seeing that beautiful smile for the first time in weeks and jealousy that it wasn't him standing at his side making him laugh. Clenching his hand into a loose fist, he tore his gaze away and dropped it to Astoria, smiling benignly at her comment, but hadn't the remotest idea of what she'd been talking about as he'd been too caught up in the man just meters away, who had finally turned his way and froze.

Draco couldn't help but feel a bit of vindication as he heard the laugh die on Harry's tongue, still feeling the sting of hurt and rejection, (which is why he'd heaped attention on Astoria; he might have changed in some ways, but he was still a Malfoy), but he couldn't tell what the raven was thinking. Nor could he figure the reason behind that sudden stillness as he kept his eyes firmly latched onto Astoria, fearful that if he'd looked up, he'd see distrust or something equally heartbreaking on the Harry's face.

He'd never bothered to answer Harry's letter, at first too angry and hurt at Harry's refusal and afraid he'd say something he regretted; and then out of shame for letting his temper get the better of him when Harry had only been trying to be considerate to him and what he likely saw as Draco's special day. They had once talked deep into the night about all manner of things, and he knew how seriously Harry took marriage, especially given the almost fairytale example he had in his parents.

Opening the door to the shop, one that Astoria claimed was the only place to get their wedding robes, he pressed a brief, laughing kiss to her cheek, wishing that cheek was just a bit higher, just a bit darker, just a bit rougher, with just a bit of stubble – just a bit more in every way. He knew he was doing the right thing; the continuation of his line was paramount and his place in it had been bred into him from birth, but he couldn't help noticing all the ways Astoria was lacking in comparison to Harry.

Her eyes weren't bright enough, her hair not dark enough, her skin wasn't as golden, her laugh too high and bell like and he immediately felt guilty. He had made his choice, as unhappy as it made him; and as ill-advised as it might be in the long run – no happiness could come of a union when one of it's members was in love with another. But he'd just have to suck it up and make the best of the hand he'd dealt.

Sighing as they entered the cool, dark shop, he stood and looked at the endless rows of robes, done in a traditional blue (tranquility, harmony, trust, unity) and silver (neutrality, encouragement), along with other colors for the less traditional. Turning his head, he spied a deep green robe with golden accents and immediately pictured Harry in them, his breath snagging at the image in his head of Harry walking up the aisle to meet him, linking their hands together and reaching up to brush a light kiss over his lips, whispering his love softly.

Blinking rapidly, he hastily looked away, walking towards the window and stared out blankly, observing as Harry seemed to stare right at him for a moment before tearing his gaze away, brusquely mumbling something to his friends before brushing past them. His heart panged at the distress and confusion etched into the brunet's face, wondering what had Harry so upset before he ruthlessly quashed the thoughts. He had no right wondering anything given it was his own fault that he and Harry stood at this chasm; it had been his own prideful fear that cooled things between them.

_Draco shifted uneasily under the constant barrage of stares of the Leaky's patrons, his face schooled into a cool, bored mask, belying the discomfort he was feeling under those faintly accusatory glares. Sentiment against his family had waned, vastly improved than the time before the public had found out that he and his mother had defied the Dark Lord and helped Harry by not giving him away, but there was still a noticeable chill. And he refused to give into those disapproving looks; he had just as much right to be here and he was damned if they were going to run him off before Harry arrived. _

_At the thought of the brunet, his heartbeat sped up, casting a warm glow over it. It had only been a few days since he'd last seen Harry, but he'd missed him terribly. It amazed him just how deeply the other boy had managed to burrow under his skin – he hadn't meant for this to happen, but he couldn't make himself feel bad about fancying the man._

_Scanning the crowd once again, he cast a Tempus, and sighed when only two minutes had crept by since his last casting; still a few minutes before Harry was even due. He almost snorted aloud at his own eagerness, and might have done just that, if it weren't for the fact that it would be undignified and likely to cause comment from someone. He was after all a Malfoy, and even with the tarnish on his name, there was a certain expectation that came with it; and his upbringing wouldn't allow for anything but reserved and refined manners._

"_Draco!" a voice broke through his thoughts, and he lifted his gaze to emerald eyes that always seemed to glow with an inner fire, one that left him breathless and aching. Could this man be any more beautiful? He regretted setting this meeting up in public now that he'd seen Harry, as he knew he couldn't greet Harry as he wanted – by pulling the brunet into his arms and snogging him senseless._

_Instead he nodded and gave the former Gryffindor a cool smile (his first mistake), waiting for Harry to drop into the booth across form him. Merlin it was so good to see him._

"_Harry," he greeted quietly, (his second mistake) amazed that his voice came out so cool and calm given the way his heart pounded in his chest. Harry faltered for a moment, seemingly taken aback at his demeanor and he smiled softly, trying to reassure the the brunet. "I hope you've been well."_

"_I...yeah, I've been fine," Harry replied, a faint frown marring his face and the light in his eyes dimming a touch as he studied Draco, his hand reflexively reaching out for Draco's, making Draco flinch reflexively (his final mistake). Hurt flashed through those impossibly green eyes, dimming their light once more as he pulled away and dropped his hand into his lap. "Just getting the house together and applying for the auror program. And you?"_

"_I'm great Harry; it's wonderful to see you again," he replied, trying to reignite the fire in the brunet's eyes, but the damage had been done. Harry remained friendly, and over all happy to see him, but held a part of himself back and too stuck in the rules that his upbringing thrust upon him, Draco didn't know how to bring that light back._

He'd desperately wanted to reach out that day and kiss Harry, erasing the hurt from his eyes, but wrapped up in the cool, unaffected, defensive mask he'd been projecting to the rest of the room, he'd irrevocably broken something between them that couldn't be fixed, unwittingly setting the tone for subsequent meetings. If he had only relinquished his pride and embraced the offered hand, even now, he might be the one laughing with Harry. But instead the meetings got further apart as he and Harry had gotten involved with their training and Draco felt more and more lost and despondent, latching onto the betrothal with both hands in an effort to fill the hole in his heart.

Looking back to the last place he saw Harry, he was surprised to see the Weasel storming away, heading towards his brother's shop and Harry and Granger speaking in frantic whispers, Harry's face drawn and distressed. Stepping closer, he watched as Granger pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek and said something before Harry turned and walked swiftly away. Once he'd gotten to a safe Apparation point, Harry turned back towards the shop and then brought a hand to his lips, as if blowing Draco a kiss goodbye and then Disapparated on the spot, leaving Draco reeling.

Did Harry still love him?

His heart fluttered at the thought and he felt like the walls were closing in on him, wondering if by signing this betrothal contract, had he'd made the biggest mistake of his life?

* * *

Swiping a hand over his face, Draco stared at the table blurrily, his eyes burning with fatigue as he sipped his tea and listlessly picked at his breakfast; he hadn't been able to sleep well since seeing Harry in Diagon Alley, when the brunet had tossed his world into turmoil. It had been nearly two weeks since he swore he saw Harry blow a kiss in his direction and still didn't know what he wanted to do about it. He had signed a contract, binding him to wed Astoria Greengrass in two months time, but given this new information, he wasn't sure that he could go through with it. Not when faced with the possibility that Harry might feel something for him.

Yet at the same time, he was bound; it was imperative that he secure an heir for the future and he had known of this requirement for as long as he had understood the concept of marriage and babies. Pure-blood's rarely married for love; it was all about the correct bloodlines and alliances with a powerful family that would bring honor to the name – if you actually believed if there was any honor left in the wake of the Dark Lord's reign.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed, his head already throbbing from the chaotic thoughts spinning in his head and looked up as he heard the post arrive, quickly divesting the owls of their burdens, feeding them a bit of his untouched bacon and then releasing them. Setting aside the personal correspondence (likely all wedding related and he didn't want to think about it), he picked up the Prophet, shaking it open and wondered what rubbish they were printing that day, paling when he caught sight of the headline.

**'Savior resigns auror position; Potter to become Italian Diplomat.'**

"Everything okay, Draco?" his mother queried as she walked in and noted Draco's wan complexion, drawing Draco's unseeing eyes from the paper, where he met a concerned blue gaze. "You look a little peaked."

"Yeah," he breathed before shaking his head and adopting a more formal tone when his mother frowned, mistaking her worry for disapproval at his casual language. "Yes, mother, I am well. Just a bit fatigued as I didn't sleep well last night. I'll go to sleep early tonight and make up for it."

Turning his attention back to the paper, he stared at a smiling Harry, but noted that the smile never reached his eyes, leaving them flat, dull and lifeless rather than the sparkling jewels he was used to and delved into the shocking announcement, his pulse thudding in his temples.

**'Savior resigns auror position; Potter to become Italian Diplomat.'**

_by Shelby Sweetalker_

_In a surprise announcement from the Ministry of Magic, the Prophet has learned that Britain is about to lose its Savior – at least for a couple of years._

_Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Conqueror of Voldemort, Savior of the Wizarding World, Order of Merlin, First Class recipient, resigned his position in the auror trainee program twelve days ago and has agreed to take on the diplomat role in Italy. The move on Potter's part was a surprise to his superiors, but generally accepted as his due after spending seven years of battling He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

"_Harry is a brilliant man and would have made an equally brilliant auror; he will be sorely missed," Gwaine Robards, Head Auror, said when asked about Potter's departure. "When he came in requesting to be dismissed from the program, I was surprised and reluctant to let go of such a naturally talented young man, but I can understand that after spending years fighting, one might need a break."_

_Potter originally planned to go on an extended vacation according to some sources, but was talked around to taking the diplomat position as a personal favor to the newly elected Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. Both men fought together in the Order of Phoenix, a vigilante group formed to rid the world of You-Know-Who and have remained close colleagues and, some even say, friends._

"_Mr. Potter was hesitant to take on the position, siting his youth and inexperience, but I managed to ease his mind and talk him around," Minister Shacklebolt stated, a confident smile on his face. "I have no doubts that Mr. Potter will be a magnificent addition to my staff and am thankful that he conceded to help round out my team."_

_Potter is slated to leave for his position by private portkey some time tomorrow and is expected to remain in Italy for the next two years as set out by his contract, only coming home for the odd meeting and other Ministry events. When the Prophet finally managed to catch up with our bashful savior, the only comment he offered was this..._

"_I just needed to get away. I've spent so much of my youth struggling for mere survival, that I decided it was time to start living; plus I wanted to try something different before I burnt out. Perhaps, when my contract is up, I'll come back in two years refreshed and ready to try the auror program again. Until then, this is a fabulous opportunity to soak up a new culture, language and people, and I simply plan to enjoy this time away to truly live my life. Perhaps I'll even travel a bit on my down time – who knows?"_

_It is a sad day ladies, seeing our Savior move so far away from his homeland, but we at the Prophet wish him nothing but the best in his new venture and hope he comes home soon._

_For more on the Ministry changes, see page 6._

Draco set the paper down, completely unaware of the concerned his mother shot his way and stood, his heart in his throat. He strode away, needing to get out of the manor before the walls closed in, missing the distressed cluck his mother made at his retreating back when she too noticed the headline. Harry was leaving...he'd quit the auror program and was moving to another country. He didn't know what to think or do with this information.

Grabbing some floo powder, he called out his destination, without any real awareness of where he was headed and sucked in a harsh breath when he whirled away, landing in the Leaky without any real intention of going there. Staring at the dark, smoky confines, his eyes landed on the table where he and Harry had shared their last drink and his heart clenched painfully, throbbing heavily against his chest as he pushed his way through the crowd and made his way to the entrance of Diagon Ally. Breathing shallowly, he tapped the correct sequence absently and walked through, his body frozen and mind a chaotic mess, whirling at the thought of Harry being gone for two years.

Stepping out into the alley, he halted abruptly, staring at the cheerful shops with blind eyes, completely befuddled as to why he was even there; he had no reason to be and definitely had no desire to shop after all the nonsense he'd had to go through with the bonding ceremony. But it had been instinctual, going to the last place he saw Harry after hearing such disturbing, distressing news.

Stumbling down the alley, he was oblivious to the stares and comments around him, people startled by his ragged appearance and was secretly hoping to outrun the news of the day. Gasping when he barreled into another person, his hands automatically flew up to right them, apologizing before he even registered the face of his victim.

"My apologies," he said in a dazed tone, sure that his pale complexion was boarding on ghostly in his shock and not wanting to alarm anyone, he focused on the person, his brow creasing when he spied a familiar mass of bushy brown hair. "Granger. My apologies again. I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Malfoy," Granger replied formally, nodding her head in acknowledgment of his apology, shooting the hulking redhead at her side a quelling glare, obviously warning him to keep his mouth shut. "No harm done; we all get a bit distracted from time to time."

"Yes...I..." he replied, his distracted mind unable to truly process what was being said and nodded absently. "Yes. I suppose we do."

"Are you all right, Malfoy?" Granger asked, her brow furrowed with concern as she noted his wan, disheveled appearance, a first from someone who was typically immaculate. "You look a little pale. Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"I...no," Draco shook his head jerkily, focusing on the frowning brunette once again. "I've just had a bit of a shock and I'm still processing everything."

"Maybe you should sit down," Granger suggested helpfully, pointing to a tea house in the distance. "Perhaps get a cup of tea until you're feeling better. Everything okay with your family?"

"Yeah...they...yes, they are all well, thank you," Draco managed to spit out semi-coherently, his brain finally registering that he was in a middle of a conversation and that he should pay attention. Studying the brunette thoughtfully, he figured she would be the best person to confirm or deny the day's news.

"Tell me, is it true that Potter's moving to the continent?" he asked, internally cringing at the edge of desperation in his tone, especially when astute, soft brown eyes lit with understanding, and Granger's mouth rounded delicately. "It's just...I saw it in the Prophet and they aren't the most reliable source."

"Why?" the Weasel spat, joining the conversation for the first time, his face drawn as if he'd been sucking on a lemon, but Draco didn't pay him any mind, too focused on the woman in front of him. "Wanting to know when to start celebrating?"

"Ron," Granger admonished, fixing him with a hard stare and effectively silencing him before turning back to Draco. "Actually, yes. For once they managed to report the news fairly accurately, surprisingly enough. Harry is supposed to leave tomorrow morning to get settled in."

Draco's head reeled again, the words a sucker punch to the gut, leaving him winded and aching, and once again unable to process the thought of Harry not being here. What was he supposed to do without him? Even with the separation, a part of him had been hopeful that they'd reconcile somewhere down the line and be friends again if nothing else...and now he was leaving.

"Malfoy?" Granger called, grabbing his attention, her eyes filled with worry and...was that compassion?

"He's leaving," he murmured to himself, as if stating it aloud would cement the thought into reality, making it stick in his fragmented brain. "I can't believe he's leaving."

"What do you care, Ferret?" the Weasel growled, obviously tired of being ignored, grunting like the baboon he was when Granger elbowed him in the ribs, her gaze boring holes into his head; but the redhead rushed on, heedless to the world of pain his girlfriend would inflict upon him when this was over. "In fact, if it wasn't for you, Harry might still be..."

"Ronald!' Granger hissed, finally garnering her boyfriend's attention, glowering at him viciously as she made a sharp, cutting gesture across her throat. The redhead paled, obviously realizing he had said something he shouldn't have, and cut off his tirade to grumble incoherently under his breath.

"Wasn't for me?" Draco asked, his gaze sharpening as Granger groaned, running a hand through her thick curls as she bit her lip uncertainly. No way was he going to let that comment pass without question. "Wasn't for me, what? What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Granger replied hastily, squirming uncomfortably when Draco pinned her with a disbelieving moue and sighed, resignation coating her tone. "It's not really our place to say, Malfoy."

"Fine," he groused, turning his back on the couple, his heart thudding in his ears. If they wouldn't give him answers, then he'd just have to beard the lion in his den. "Then I'll just go to the source."

Sweeping off, and happy to have a set task at hand, he ignored Granger's protests and the Weasel's continued grousing as he headed towards the Leaky and out into Muggle London. He was going to get some answers if it was the last thing he did.

* * *

Draco stared at the barren tables, shelves and mantel, all more evidence to Harry's imminent departure, blatantly ignoring the now fidgeting house elf staring at him with wide eyes and wringing her hands. Lungs constricting, squeezing all the air out of them, he traveled the length of the house, noting yet more signs of the owner preparing for a long absence. This was unacceptable to him; he couldn't allow Harry to leave England, to leave _him_.

"Potter, I know that you're here," he called down the hall as he hurriedly stamped up the stairs, cursing the desperate note that rang in his ears as he climbed, freezing when he caught sight of Harry walking cautiously down the hallway towards him. Gods, he was still so beautiful.

"Draco, what are you doing here?" Harry asked guardedly, confusion evident on his face as he came to a halt a few feet in front of Draco, shifting uneasily under the intensity of Draco's stare.

"Is it true?" he asked impatiently, climbing the rest of the stairs to come within a foot of the other man, his senses reeling when the soft scent of sweat, soap and a faint hint of apples washed over him, bringing back memories of them wrapped in each other's arms.

"Is what true?" Harry asked gingerly, his brow furrowing as his confusion mounted, and he cocked his head slightly to the side inquisitively, those bright green eyes clouded as they met his own.

"Are you leaving because of me?" he demanded, his eyes flashing dangerously when Harry backed up a step, the color draining from his face and the brunet shook his head jerkily, as if to ward off the line of questioning.

"What?" Harry countered hoarsely, obviously choosing to go the denial route

"Well, I had an enlightening conversation with Weasley and Granger," he replied silkily, taking another step forward, thrilled when he watched the other man swallow nervously, his eyes watchful of Draco's every movement. "And they seem to think your leaving the country has to do with me."

"Bloody hell, they swore..." Harry cursed under his breath, then halted, darting an anxious glance at Draco, cutting off whatever he was going to say. Studying the Draco coolly, Harry seemed to pull himself together and shrugged negligently before turning to walk down the hall towards what Draco presumed was his bedroom."It's nothing, really Draco."

"Nothing?" Draco riposted skeptically, shaking his head as he pursued the shorter man down the hall, his hand latching on to Harry's wrist, and spinning the other man around to face him, barely quelled the urge to push the brunet into the wall with his body. "Oh no you don't, Potter. They tried that with me as well and I'm not buying. What do...why would your leaving be my fault?"

"It's not..." Harry responded weakly, keeping his eyes averted over Draco's shoulder as Draco crowded the brunet into the wall, his shoulders slumping and obviously agitated at the close confines. Licking his lips, Harry met his gaze. "I...just need to get away. Do something different. I..."

Draco inhaled sharply as those gorgeous eyes spilled their secret to him, the emotion swirling in them unmistakable, even to someone as emotionally challenged as he, and he stepped back minutely, reeling at the depth of love he found. Sighing in resignation, Harry looked away, tensing subtly as if waiting for a blow, or perhaps a rejection of the feelings he'd shared. Trembling softly, Draco continued to watch the other man quietly, his mind swarming with possibilities if he could just convince Harry to stay and...well he didn't know what to do about the Greengrass contract, but surely there was a solution. He didn't want to lose Harry again.

"You never could lie worth shit, Harry," he swore softly, stepping forward to take the other man in his arms and rested his forehead against Harry's, inhaling the sweet scent of his hair, reveling in the feeling of having Harry in his arms once more. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"What was I supposed to say, Draco?" Harry queried tiredly, pulling away from Draco to go into his room, where he closed one trunk and set it aside, and then grabbed another, murmuring a brief spell to have it continue the packing for him and then faced Draco, pointing out quietly. "You're engaged."

"But I thought you didn't care...you seemed to pull away at the end of school and..." Draco returned, equally as quiet, recalling how much it hurt the day Harry cooled towards him, even if it had been at his own instigation. "You never said anything. You even refused to stand up for me."

"Are you kidding?" Harry stared at him incredulously, and he had to wince as he thought about it. Of course Harry wouldn't want to stand by and watch someone he loved marry another. If he had been in the same position, well, they wouldn't have found the body. "I'm in love with you; do you honestly believe I could just sit there and..."

Draco flushed to have his own conclusion flung into his face, even as his heart did a happy little jig at finally hearing those three little words fall from Harry's lips.

"I can't," Harry continued with a frown, his eyes sad and resigned. "I wish I could be the bigger person, but I can't watch you with her. I wish you all the happiness in the world, but I won't stand by and watch you marry someone else. Just what was I supposed to do?"

"Tell me?" he said almost inaudibly, sighing when Harry huffed softly.

"And what good would that have done?" Harry asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he met Draco's eyes, a dull ache shining out of them. "What would have changed? You'd still need an heir and that is something I can't provide."

"There are other ways..." he insisted before trailing off at Harry's chiding look.

"So, you're willing to go against your parents? You calling off the wedding?" the brunet asked gently, pointing out the obvious flaw in his thinking.

"I..." He opened his mouth to agree to anything if it meant keeping Harry, but then closed it quietly. Would he be willing to go against everything he had been taught, turn against his parents and their wishes, break a signed contract with the Greengrass family and face potential disowning?

"Exactly," Harry broke into his thoughts, sighing wearily as he turned back to his trunks and set another packing, and a sense of panic washed over Draco at the action. "I don't begrudge you this, Draco. I really don't. I know your obligations. But I can't sit here and watch the man that I love build a life with someone else."

"But..." he protested, but was cut off with a wave of Harry's hand.

"It's better this way," Harry replied softly, his eyes dancing around the mostly backed room sadly before he met Draco's gaze. "You know that. I won't be here to cause discomfort and eventually...perhaps one day...I can return and watch the two of you without hurting."

"Don't...don't do this, stay with me," he pleaded quietly, his heart aching at the resolution in Harry's eyes and his stomach dropped when Harry shook his head dejectedly, his words an arrow to his shattering heart.

"I can't."


	8. Nothing Else Matters

**Title: **Nothing Else Matters

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words:** 5443

**Warnings: **Moderate angst?

**Summary: **It's a year later and have our boys managed to get their acts together?

**Author's Notes: **The next in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. This is the last in a trilogy of connected ficlets and is a Draco POV. Based on Nothing Else Matters by Metallica.

* * *

**Nothing Else Matters**

"_I can't."_

Perched on his porch swing, Draco stared out at the manor's grounds, his knees loosely drawn to his chest as he soaked up the late afternoon heat, his eyes closed and face tipped to the sun as he recalled the events from just over a year ago, the residual hurt from Harry's refusal still burning in his heart. Today, he understood Harry's reasoning and why he couldn't stay even when Draco had all but begged him to, but it didn't stop the pain that echoed through his chest when he thought about that time.

Harry had put his life on hold over and over for the people in his life, as well as the wizarding world in general, giving so much of himself, he'd had nothing left over for himself and had truly been facing burnout. While part of the reason for him leaving the country had been the inability to watch Draco marry someone else, he hadn't lied in his brief interview with the Prophet; he did need a change and to start living his life and stop just existing from day-to-day, doing what everyone else expected of him. So, as angry as he wanted to be with Harry for walking away, he got it; he really did.

Plus, he had made excellent points that day; what point did he really have in staying when the only person that could change his mind was too wrapped up in what was expected of him and his family pride to put the brunet first? And after everything he'd been through in his short life, Harry deserved to have someone put him above everything else. It didn't make the decision Harry had made any easier, but everyone was entitled to be a bit selfish now and then. And Draco's demand had been unfair, expecting Harry to keep a promise, when he hadn't been able to make any promises himself.

"_You promised," he whispered, those two words making his stomach cramp and left him feeling ill, tense and gasping for air as his lungs constricted painfully. "You said you'd always be here."_

"_I know what I said," Harry replied sharply, before closing his eyes tightly and digging the heels of his hands into them as he drew a deep breath, his face pinched as he struggled internally with his emotions. Opening his eyes when he was calmer, he explained softly. "But I'm committed to this position. I've already signed the contract, Draco, and am obligated for the next two years."_

_Draco ran his hand through his hair and turned away from Harry, his mind racing with everything he'd learned from Granger, the Weasel and Harry himself, wondering just how he had missed what was so obvious now. Had he been so wrapped up in his own pride and pain that he hadn't seen Harry's? How much of this could have been avoided if he had just let Harry take his hand in the Leaky instead of worrying what the public might have said about Draco corrupting their Savior; hell, he'd never cared what others thought before and he knew damned well that Harry couldn't care less._

"_And if you're not planning to change anything," Harry continued, sighing wearily when Draco turned around and stared at the brunet, his confusion evident. "There is nothing holding me here."_

"_Just..." Draco broke off, his head spinning as he tried to come up with a plausible reason to halt the impending implosion of his world. "Wait, just give me a chance to think about this at least."_

"_I _can't_, Draco," Harry emphasized, running his hands through his hair, his agitation palpable as he began to pace restlessly, his hands resting on the top of his head. "They are expecting me tomorrow, so that I can set up household and I have so much to finish before I leave. Maybe if I hadn't signed the contract...but there is nothing for it, I am magically bound. I have to go and fulfill my responsibilities."_

"_You can't just..." he cried, getting agitated himself the more Harry talked, watching the opportunity of a lifetime slip through his fingers because he'd waited too long. And although he hadn't known anything for certain until today, he should have acted as soon as he saw that kiss. "You can't just dump this on me and expect me to know what to say or do, Harry."_

"_I hadn't planned on dumping it on you at all," Harry groused. Rubbing his hand over his face when Draco paled and snapped back as if slapped at the confession."I'd planned on a quiet exit. _You're_ the one that came to _my_ house demanding answers."_

"_So you would have just slunk away without ever telling me?" he queried indignantly, knowing he was acting unreasonably, but unable to help himself, stung that Harry had obviously never planned to tell him how he felt. "Just walked away without a word? I never took you for a coward."_

_As soon as he said it, Draco knew he had crossed a line; no one in their right mind would dare call, or even imply, that Harry was a coward. He was the single bravest man he knew and deserved better than his spiteful words, but they were out and no amount of wishing could take them back. Flinching when Harry spun around in outrage and glowered, Draco felt immediately ashamed of his accusation, but never had the chance to apologize as Harry spat._

"_You _dare_? I'll have you know, I thought I was doing the best thing for the both of us. You seemed quite content to run about town with your bride-to-be, making plans and socializing, never giving a thought to me or our previous relationship. So why should I think you'd be interested in knowing how I felt? You made it quite clear where your priorities stood and never indicated otherwise, Malfoy."_

"_I told you it wasn't a love match," he retorted softly, his heart throbbing painfully at Harry's words, but knowing he deserved them. He'd been so hurt in what he thought of as Harry's abandonment, he'd thrown himself into the betrothal, rather than just talking to the man and setting things right._

"_But you never said that you felt anything for _me_," Harry pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "In fact, you still haven't, so I'm not sure what you're protesting in the first place."_

"_Because I..." he trailed off, uncertain on what to say to the implied question; how did he begin to express what he felt for Harry? "You..."_

"_See, you can't even say anything now," Harry sighed, the fight going out of him as he turned back to his trunks. "Just...go, Draco. Marry your pretty, pure-blood bride and have lots of babies. Be happy. Really, that's all I want for you."_

"_You can't mean that," he whispered, his throat clogging from the unexpressed emotions welling inside him._

"_I do," Harry replied, turning around and walking over to him, placing his hands on his shoulders. "Really. I just want your happiness, no matter who it's with or where you are."_

_Harry smiled wanly as their eyes met, his shimmering with sadness as he leaned up and brushed a gentle kiss across Draco's brow, lingering for just a moment. Draco closed his eyes, his senses overwhelmed by the scent and feel of Harry, so close to him and yet so far away, and made a noise of protest when he felt the brunet pull away, putting distance between them once more. Opening his eyes, he silently watched Harry pack for several minutes before he cleared his throat and said._

"_This isn't over, Potter. You can't tell me this and then just expect me to walk away."_

"_I'm not the one who can't make up his mind," Harry replied quietly, keeping his back turned, his shoulders slumped and head bowed. "I love you, but I won't wait for you to chose...if there is a choice at all."_

But he had walked away.

Closing his eyes, Draco drew a shuddering breath, leaving his head against the back of the swing, a bittersweet ache splashing through his chest at the memory. He had meant the words at the time, he really had no intention of leaving the situation right there, but he had always been a bit of the coward he had accused Harry of being. And he'd left, his mind reeling at the words they'd exchanged. He'd fully intended to go home, get the contract out and read it over to see if there was a way for him to get out of the marriage. But when he got there, he'd immediately gotten accosted by his mother, Astoria, Daphne and Lady Greengrass, who were hashing out some inane detail and time slid away.

Harry left, taking Draco's heart with him and Draco had been left in limbo, torn between following his heart and doing the right thing. And before he knew it, weeks had passed and it was only three weeks before his bonding ceremony and he was at his wit's end, feeling even more lost than when Harry had walked away the first time. He couldn't concentrate, he was barely eating or sleeping and he felt like an inferi most days – an empty vessel just going through the motions and performing on command, much as he did as a child.

Until his mother's intervention.

"_What is wrong, my Dragon?" his mother queried, drawing him from his thoughts as she ran a soothing hand over his hair._

"_Nothing, Mother," he replied, continuing to stare out the bay window in his room, where he'd sought sanctuary after a grueling day of bonding chores, each detail hitting like another nail in his coffin. "I'm just tired."_

_It wasn't an outright lie; he was tired – exhausted if he wanted to be completely honest – but that was only a fraction of the true problem. The truth was he felt trapped by the obligations and expectations of the life his family had chosen for him. Just once, he wanted to feel free to make his own decisions – to do what he chose, see who he chose, befriend who he chose...to love who he chose._

_Instead, he was tied up in knots, bound to a marriage not of his own making. It was suffocating._

"_You cannot lie to me, my little Dragon," his mother countered, interrupting his thoughts again and sat on the window seat next to him, taking his hand in hers. "I know you too well, and while I've known you to be slightly unhappy with this bonding, you have become completely miserable the past few weeks. Coincidentally around the same time that our illustrious Mr. Potter departed for warmer climes."_

"_Mother?" he questioned softly, turning away from his vigil to stare uncertainly at his mother, a flash of fear sparking and jolting down his spine, but only met with concerned, compassionate eyes and a worried frown._

"_Oh, Draco," his mother sighed, reaching up a hand to smooth back a lock of his hair. "Did you honestly believe that I wouldn't notice your feelings for Harry Potter. Come now, my Dragon, I have watched you grow and knew long ago that your obsession was more than a schoolboy rivalry."_

"_I..." Draco paused, for once completely speechless by his mother's words; he had thought he'd masked his emotions well. Truly, his own father had never even guessed. "I don't know what to say."_

"_Perhaps you can tell me what is bothering you and then we can go from there," his mother suggested, watching him expectantly as she made herself comfortable and snapped her fingers for a house elf, ordering tea and biscuits for herself and cocoa (his childhood comfort drink) for Draco as she waited for him to gather his scrambled thoughts._

"_I..." he stumbled as Mitzy popped away, then cleared his throat, continuing hoarsely. "I met with Potter...Harry before he left."_

_He paused again, trying to figure out how to put everything said and implied into words as Mitzy popped back in with a tray loaded with tea, cocoa and his favorite biscuits. Handing him his cocoa, his mother fussed with the tray, making herself up a cup of tea as he took a sip of the steaming chocolate liquid, humming in pleasure as it slid down his throat to curl in his stomach, warming him from the inside out._

"_And?" she prompted, when it became obvious he wasn't going to elaborate, then took a small sip of her tea before placing the cup and the saucer back on the tray and picking up a biscuit._

"_And he...told me that he loves me," he murmured, sighing and picking up a biscuit from his plate, toying with it instead of eating it. "Well I should start at the beginning. I had an argument, if you could call it that, with the Weasel and it came out that Harry was leaving because of me...because of the marriage contract specifically. So, I confronted him and found out that he has harbored feelings for me since our involvement at school. And he...I don't know what to do or think about it."_

"_How do you feel about it; about him?" she asked quietly when he wound down._

"_I love him," he confessed softly, cheeks flushing at her indulgent smile._

"_Then what's the problem?" she said rhetorically, a slim, sculpted brow arching inquisitively._

"_You know the problem, Mother," he huffed, taking a hasty swallow of his cocoa when she frowned, shaking her head slowly. "I'm _engaged_. We have a contract with the Greengrasses. I can't just...walk away from it."_

"_Why not?" his mother asked, sipping on her cup of tea nonchalantly, as if she hadn't just suggested that he break a contract that had taken them months to negotiate._

"_Are you kidding?" he asked, aghast that she'd even suggested going against what amounted to centuries of tradition and familial obligation."First of all, Father will kill me; not to mention that we have a _signed_ contract."_

"_Oh, Draco," she sighed heavily, setting her cup aside and taking his hands, looking at him seriously. "I thought you had learned better than this...Draco, I love your father, but he is hardly a person to be emulating. and he...he always thinks he knows best, but this is _your_ life. Do not allow him bully you into something that will ultimately make you miserable. As for the contract, there are loop holes; you didn't honestly think I'd allow you to sign a contract without an out, did you? Your father might be a dunderhead when it comes to his dealings and choosing his associates, but I am not."_

"_Mother!" he gasped, scandalized by her last words, but also couldn't help but smirk at them at the same time; one he wisely hid by ducking his head. Not that he fooled her._

"_Oh, pish," she waved his reaction off with her hand. "He was, and well you know it."_

"_I just..." he said, letting his voice fade as he sought for the sentiment he wished to convey. "I don't want to disappoint anyone."_

"_You can never disappoint me, my Dragon," she assured quietly, squeezing his hands. "Unless you don't follow your heart. The war has taught me that, while some of our culture and traditions are worth preserving, there are many more that should be re-examined and shunted aside. And your father can get over it."_

_Smiling at his mother, he leaned over and kissed her cheek, grateful as always that he had her support and heart lightened by the possibilities she presented._

"_Just be happy, my darling," she continued, getting up and pressing a small kiss to his forehead, smoothing back his hair as she unwittingly echoed Harry's sentiment."That is all I want for you."_

Draco sighed and lifted his head, quietly watching the water flowing from one of their many fountains, the peaceful trickle of water soothing away the lingering hurt of his foolish actions. He'd always been spectacular at sabotaging his own happiness and he couldn't believe that he'd allowed it to spiral so out of control. His hesitation had cost him in so many ways, but in the end, he'd felt that he'd made the right decision in the end.

Even if it had blown up spectacularly in his face, and he and his father could barely exchange a civil word these days.

"_I'm not bonding with Astoria," he announced at dinner several days later, eyes cast on his plate, finally having worked up the nerve to state his intentions._

_After his mother's advice, he had pulled out the contract between Astoria and himself, and went over it with a fine-toothed comb, seeking the loophole his mother had mentioned and grinned when he found the clause near the end of the document, stating he could cry off if there were obvious, irreconcilable differences. He figured being gay and in love with a man would fall in that realm. And although he knew his father would argue it wasn't a strong enough case to dissolve the contract, Astoria felt differently when he presented his reasoning. She agreed to his suggestion, preferring to marry a man who held the ability to be attracted to her and had the potential to fall in love with her._

_He raised his eyes from his plate, and met his mother's gaze, relieved when she beamed, nodding approvingly of his decision; but he knew that she wasn't the problem considering she had pointed him in the right direction. It was his father that he truly had to fight. Not that Lucius could do anything as it was a done deal. Even now, Astoria was breaking off the contract and announcing the dissolution of their engagement. Looking at his father, he sighed internally as he felt icy eyes on him, his father's face set into a cold mask, but Draco refused to be daunted._

"_Of course you will," his father replied icily, railroading over Draco's desires as if unimportant, like he'd done since Draco was a boy. "We have a contract."_

"_I have already spoken to Astoria," he continued, ignoring the flaring of his father's nose and the twitch near his eye that gave away his anger, chinks in that cool mask. "She has agreed to break the contract stating irreconcilable differences. I'm allowing her to end the agreement in my place to salvage her pride."_

"_This is utter nonsense," his father spluttered, setting his fork down and took a sip of his wine, an obvious delaying tactic as he expected Draco feel contrition at his displeasure and cave, but it didn't have the same impact as it had when he was fifteen. "What could possibly be so irreconcilable that you can't marry the chit?"_

"_I am in love with someone else," he admitted softly, sharing a small smile with his mother before letting it drop as he turned back to his father. "When given all the information about my beloved, she agreed that she couldn't bond with someone she hadn't a chance of winning over."_

"_Utter nonsense," Lucius spat, snapping his fingers for an elf, ordering a tumbler of scotch from the cowering being. Draco merely stared back at his father unfazed. "Who is this chit? I hope that she is of a good family."_

"_I happen to think that _he_ is from an excellent family," Draco replied calmly, smirking when his father choked on his scotch at that admission, and pressed on before he could recover. "One of the best. Heir of two prominent lines, powerful, both magically and politically, wealthy, gorgeous, he is quite the match. Not that any of that is important to me. I love him. That is all the qualification I need."_

"_Absolutely not," his father choked, his cheeks flushing an unhealthy shade of purple._

"_You don't have a say in this, Father," he interrupted, cutting the other man off before he could launch a tirade. "I am an adult and it is _my_ life. I will live it as I choose."_

"_Well who is this supposed paragon?" his father sneered, downing the last of his drink and glared at Draco heatedly. "And why isn't he here to back you up if he's so perfect?"_

"_Unfortunately, he is away on business, otherwise, I'm sure he'd be happy to support me," Draco responded quietly, refusing to give his father the fight he was spoiling for. "And you know him actually; his name is Harry Potter."_

"_Absolutely not," Lucius spat, practically foaming at the mouth the moment Harry's name had been mentioned. "No son of mine..."_

"_You act like you have a say in this," Draco cut him off before he could begin a rant about dirty blood and Harry being the reason behind the ending of his glory days. "But I assure you , Father, you do not. I love Harry and I plan to bond with him if he'll have me and I care not a lick if you approve of my choice in partners or not."_

"_You do, and I will wash my hands of you," his father threatened, his knuckles blanching as they clutched the arms of his chair, the wood creaking under the pressure."I will disown you if you take up with that..."_

"_Then by all means, do it," Draco spat, his eyes pinning his father to his chair, allowing him to see the contempt that had built and festered over the years, making the older man pale. Besides, while Lucius wood certainly ban him from the property and make his life difficult, he would never actually disown him as then the fortune would go to a distant, hated cousin; and his father would never allow that. "All of my life, I've done what is expected; I caved to your desires thinking you could do no wrong. But I am no longer a child and I have since learned that you are fallible."_

_Draco paused to take a sip of his wine, holding his father's gaze coldly as he let the words sink into the other man's over-inflated head; only looking away for a moment to glance at his mother an smirked when she seemed to be boring holes into her husband's head with her frosty glare. Flicking his eyes back his apoplectic father, he continued smoothly._

"_I love Harry, and I _will_ bond with him if he will still have me. I'd rather come to him a pauper and find love, happiness and fulfillment than marry Astoria a wealthy man and be forever stuck behind these oppressive walls, crassly counting my galleons, like some cold, empty inferi."_

"_I will not be spoken to this way..." his father roared, standing up as if to lean over and strike him, but halted when his mother rose from her chair with a hiss._

"_Oh, do shut up before you make an even bigger arse of yourself, Lucius."_

_His father gaped at his mother, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly before he sunk into his chair petulantly, reminiscent of a scolded child as his mother glided around the table and smoothed Draco's hair back, pride lighting her eyes._

"_I am proud of you, my Dragon, you have grown into a wonderful man," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek, casting a single quelling glare when his father opened his mouth to comment. "Say hello to Harry for me and let me know when you get settled. I'd love to come visit and meet your young man under better circumstances."_

"_Of course, Mother," he replied, smiling softly at the woman who'd always had his back. "I'm sure he would love that as well. He's always spoken highly of you and the aid you gave him._

"_Excellent," she smiled, running her hand over his head lovingly before turning a heated glower on his father, issuing her own threat. "And _you_...you will support our son or learn to keep your mouth shut lest you learn exactly why the Black women have been feared over the centuries."_

Draco smiled, leaning back into the chair further, staring at the cool, creamy arches of the Italian villa that had been his home for the past ten months, his eyes lighting with a warm glow when a dark-haired man walked out of the door balancing a tray in his hands. His smile broadened into an outright grin as emerald eyes lifted from the tray to meet his, sparkling with contentment and happiness, and made Draco sigh with an echo of those same emotions.

"There you are," he commented lazily, tugging on Harry's wrist and toppling him into his lap after the brunet set the tray down onto a low table next to him. "I was wondering what you'd been getting up to."

"I thought you might enjoy a snack," Harry smiled, nuzzling his cheek, a flash of gold on his left hand catching the sunlight, nearly blinding them both as he rested his hand against Draco's chest, and he grinned at the band that matched his own.

"You thought right," he smirked, dipping his head to capture cherry red lips, humming in delight when they parted beneath his, eagerly inviting the tongue he slipped between them. Curling his tongue around Harry's, he stroked the brunet's languidly, drowning in the flavor of cinnamon, cherries and a hint of bittersweet chocolate. Pulling away, he smacked his lips approvingly. "Mmmm...delicious."

"Flatterer," Harry chuckled huskily, his cheeks flushing deliciously at the comment as he settled into Draco's arms, humming in contentment as he stared at the courtyard. "You seemed as if you were miles away."

"Just thinking about the day I found you again," Draco answered, brushing his lips over Harry's temple, closing his eyes in bliss as the soft scent of apples and rain teased his senses.

"Ah," Harry hummed knowingly, tangling his fingers with Draco's, brushing a soft kiss against the knuckles of their joined hands. "That was a truly spectacular day."

"Yes it was," he agreed, wrapping his other arm around Harry's waist and pulled him back between his raised legs. "Best day of my life."

_Draco paused at the double doors, staring at the beautiful white villa, bordering the equally stunning Lake Como in Italy. Although the Italian Ministry of Magic was situated in Milan, Harry chose to settle down in Como (a short apparation jump away) due to the quiet and secluded atmosphere. And looking around, he could understand its appeal after the months of harassment and endless media circus Harry had been subjected to at the end of the war._

_Gathering his courage, he rang the doorbell, his heart thudding in his chest as he listened to the chimes echo through the manor and waited quietly for the beloved mop of black hair and bright green eyes he'd traveled a long way to see. Fidgeting nervously, he tugged at the sleeve of his light summer sweater and fervently hoped that Harry was actually in that day. It would be disappointing to come all this way, only to find that Harry was out sight-seeing or traveling._

_Head snapping up when he heard the echo of footsteps and the jingle of a lock being removed, Draco inhaled sharply, his heart and stomach fluttering like mad as the door opened and Harry came into view, a frozen smile pasted on the brunet's face as he stared unblinkingly at Draco. As for Draco himself, he drank in the vision before him, the sight of that gorgeous face and tousled hair, now touching Harry's shoulders, making him jittery and he let out his breath in a low, shaky rush._

_He was utterly beautiful._

"_Harry..." he breathed, unable to believe that he was standing in front of him at last._

"_Draco...what..." Harry whispered, blindly clutching at the door frame for support, his eyes anchored on Draco and he swayed slightly as Draco stepped closer. "Why are you here?"_

"_I came for you," he replied simply, smiling when Harry shook his head slightly, as if he were trying to make sure he was really seeing and hearing Draco, his eyes widening in surprise as Draco's words sunk in._

"_But..." Harry breathed, stepping closer, his hand reaching out as if to make sure Draco were really there before halting and he licked his lips nervously, blinking rapidly as he seemed to break through his stupor. "Wait...isn't today supposed to be your wedding day?"_

"_The wedding is off," he responded, biting his lip thoughtfully and averting his eyes for a moment to get his bearings before dropping them to Harry once more. "And it never would have been on in the first place had I known you loved me. I can't...I _won't_ live without you."_

"_Oh...I..._oh_," Harry stammered, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before alarm flashed across his face."Wait, you didn't leave her at the altar, did you?"_

"_No," he reassured, chuckling under his breath at the relief that flooded across the other man's face. He couldn't fault his concern; no one wanted to face a woman scorned. "No, she broke the contract a couple of weeks ago by my request."_

"_And you just found me today?" Harry inquired, arching a dark brow in question, a part of him still wary of Draco's sudden appearance._

"_Well, I did have to wrap some things up first," he acknowledged, thinking about the endless list of vendors that needed canceling and guests that needed appeasing, not to mention an irate father that hounded him relentlessly. Although, the latter let up after two days when his mother made good on her threat, and his father had to spend a week recovering from whatever she'd cast at him. Draco didn't ask, as he really didn't think he wanted to know based on his father's mortified reaction._

"_Plus I thought it oddly symbolic," he continued with an uncertain smile. "The day my life changed forever – only, I'm hoping that it will be _you_ taking that step with me instead."_

_Draco gasped, gurgling in surprise when he suddenly found himself with an armful of tempting brunet, his soft cry cut off by the warm, firm press of pink lips as Harry proceeded to snog him senseless. Humming in pleasure, he wrapped his arms around Harry and pulled him closer, reveling in the feeling of finally coming home._

"_Harry?" he whispered against the other man's lips as he pulled away, smiling when he met hazy green eyes. "Not that I'm not enjoying this, but can I get an actual answer?"_

"_Yes," Harry breathed, kissing him gently as a smile spread across his face. "Of course, yes."_

Draco sighed happily, tightening his hold on the beautiful brunet in his arms, and rested his chin on the top of Harry's head, letting his eyes travel over the calm, shining waters of Lake Como just beyond their garden and couldn't remember a time when he'd felt happier. They still had a lot of work ahead of them, and Harry still had another year of his contract, but he didn't mind. He'd travel to hell and back for the man in his arms.

"Do you regret it?" Harry asked quietly, gesturing vaguely with his hand, but Draco knew exactly what he was asking without clarification.

Humming softly, he thought about the friends that were still fuming because they had run off together and those that were still expecting them to fail, unconvinced they could work due to their fiery personalities. He thought of the father, who still stubbornly held to his views (although, he never disowned Draco as he threatened, fearful of his vengeful wife), thinking Draco would eventually cave to his whims. He thought of the wizarding community, that had cried out indignantly when his and Harry's relationship went public, stating Harry deserved so much more than a former Death Eater as a partner. And weighing all the strife against the sheer joy he derived in a single kiss, he couldn't regret a damned thing.

"Never," he whispered against Harry's ear, brushing a gentle kiss on the lobe. "Best decision I ever made."


	9. Run

**Title: **Run

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words: **appx. 10,500 (much longer than the others)

**Warnings: **Mild angst, AU, OOC, character bashing, Manipulative!Dumbledore, Jealous!Ron, Misguided!Hermione - that said, while I do feel that Dumbledore was manipulative, I don't truly think he was as bad as he is portrayed in this one-shot, nor do I think Harry would necessarily react this way. But this is the story that came out when I listened to the song, so that's what you get.

**Summary: **There comes a time when the only thing you can do, is to cut the ties binding you to a life you never wanted...

**Author's Notes: **The next in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes/one-shots. Based on Run by Snow Patrol.

* * *

**Run**

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, you are hereby sentenced to exile from the British Wizarding Community; you are stripped of all British Wizarding titles, and in compensation for crimes against the British Wizarding Community, you are stripped of your Gringotts Family Vault, the primary residence of Malfoy Manor..." Dumbledore's voice rang out over the silent courtroom, droning on triumphantly, obviously thinking he'd found a plausible way to finally separate Draco and his boy hero. But Draco didn't hear the rest of the words, nor did he register the outraged cries from his family or the bright, fiery gaze of said hero as he stared Dumbledore down, promising him a world of pain for this ruling.

The word 'exile' rang through his ears, ringing through it viciously, tearing at his insides like an angry snake, pouring its poison into an already seeping wound. He didn't care about the titles, or the vault or the manor after that abomination of life had made it his centre He'd gladly give up all of his wealth as well; no, it was the fact that in three days time he'd be separated from the only person who had believed in him and the only one he'd ever loved outside of his family.

It wasn't fair. He'd done everything they'd wanted and he was cast aside as rubbish now that they'd won the war. He really shouldn't have been surprised, as he'd never trusted Dumbledore as Harry had, but it was still a knife to the heart. After lowering his wand on the Astronomy Tower, he had taken Dumbledore's offer of sanctuary for he and his mother; his father he hadn't cared about, as it had been due to his fanaticism that Draco had been marked in the first place.

Dumbledore had promised him safety, and while he had remained doubtful at first, he'd slowly come to trust in Harry's words that he'd never allow anything happen to him once everything was over.

He didn't blame Harry for this, however; he knew this smacked of Dumbledore's machinations, along with his little minions, the Weasel and Know-It-All. They hadn't been happy with how close Draco and Harry had gotten during the last year of the war, especially when Harry seemed to come to him for advice above the three of them; of course, they would neutralize what they saw as a threat. One couldn't ride the coattails of the Saviour if said Saviour ignored them in favour of a Death Eater's son.

He was surprised that they had managed to wait this long before removing him from the picture, if he were to be completely honest; but he supposed if they had moved sooner, they would have had an infuriated, recalcitrant hero on their hands and they didn't want the obvious questions that would have been asked about Harry's attitude change. It had been a far wiser to keep the one who was slated to save their collective arses happy until he'd gotten the job done and his happiness was no longer necessary to world survival. It was sickening really.

Lifting his head, he met Dumbledore's eyes and sneered at the mad twinkle in his calculating eyes, obviously pleased that he had gotten the last word. _Laugh while you can, old man; I have a feeling that you'll get your just due sooner than you think. I'll have the last laugh in the end. You may think you have broken me, but I will come back to haunt you when you least expect it_.

Turning away, he sneered at the Weasel's smug smile, but was surprised when he met worried brown eyes as they flicked between a fuming green-eyed brunet and Dumbledore; well, at least there was an ounce of intelligence in one of them. It seemed that Granger finally realized that this was going to seriously backfire. Arching a perfectly sculpted brow, he smirked when the brunette flushed and turned away in shame, making him feel just the tiniest flash of triumph.

Nodding to the Wizengamot, he ignored their invitation to speak on their decree and walked out of the chamber without a word, his head held high, not about to give them the satisfaction of seeing a broken and humiliated Malfoy. They may have stripped him of his birthright, but he still had his family name and their blood still ran through his veins; he would do them proud once more.

He would not be defeated.

"Draco!" a voice called, making he and his mother turn, finding a flushed, irate Harry Potter striding after them. "I'm so sorry, Draco, Madame Malfoy. I had no idea that they were going to do that. I swear, I will fight this injustice. I'll take them all down if I have to. I won't rest until..."

"Harry, Harry," Draco interrupted, garnering the rambling brunet's attention as he grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers. Waiting until Harry quieted, he drew a shaky breath and continued. "I know you had nothing to do with that miscarriage of justice. You are far too Gryffindor for that kind of disloyalty and lack of noblesse. But I don't want you to do anything. You still have to live here and I honestly want nothing to do with a community that can break their promises without so much as blinking. It's better for Mother and I if we just set up residence in France."

"You don't want to stay with me?" Harry whispered, a faint touch of hurt colouring his tone as he snapped back as if he'd been slapped.

"No, that's not it," Draco sighed, bringing the brunet close enough to embrace, but only retained a grasp on his hands, ever mindful of the prying eyes around them. "Of course, I want to stay with you, you stupid Gryffindor; but I also don't want to remain under Dumbledore's thumb. I don't trust him with either mine or my mother's life. He has already proven himself false once; I will not allow him any more power over my loved ones and myself."

As Harry stared at him, Draco sighed and hoped he was getting through to the fiery brunet. The last thing he wanted was Harry placing himself in danger by setting himself up as his defender. He wouldn't put it past Dumbledore to 'do away' with a tool that was no longer useful. Harry's eyes averted, then hardened as they lit on something behind Draco. Turning his head, he caught sight of the Weasel and the Know-It-All standing in the shadows, watching his and Harry's interactions intently, likely spying for the old fool.

"I have to go," Harry bit out tightly as he glared at the two little spies, his gaze and tone softening as he turned back to Draco. "I have something to take care of, but then I'll be at the manor later to help you."

"Harry, you don't have..." Draco began, but was silenced by Harry's determined smile.

"I'll be there at seven, yeah?" he said, the fire in his eyes blazing as they latched onto his friends once more and Draco really didn't want to be in their shoes when Mt. Harry erupted. Not that they didn't deserve his wrath; he almost wished he could be a fly on the wall during that confrontation, but he only had three days and there was a lot to do.

"Okay," he nodded and watched Harry storm off, blowing off his friends as he made his way back into the courtroom, and he couldn't help but smirk when the Weasel frowned. Ah, poetic justice. Turning around, he offered his arm to his mother and led her to the apparation point, his head set regally, as if he hadn't a care in the world and his mind already filled with all he needed to see to before departure.

* * *

Harry took a deep breath and met those gorgeous eyes that had always evoked a response in him, even when they had been rivals, rage swirling in his gut at what had just taken place; Draco had always touched something inside him, and now faced with his forced departure, he could barely meet that angry, but resigned gaze. When he had heard the judgement passed down, he'd been livid, and barely held himself together when he met the meddlesome fool's twinkling eyes, trying yet again to pass himself harmless, sympathetic grandfather figure, but Harry wasn't buying. His life had been one big chess match in that interfering old coot's hands and he was a pawn no longer.

Brushing his hand over Draco's, he promised see him later in the evening to help him with the task of packing up an entire manor in three days, a daunting prospect even with magic; and then set his mind forward to the coming necessary confrontations. No way in hell were they going to get away with railroading Draco and his mother after everything they had done for the cause, and everything they had been through at the hands of that madman and the wizarding community.

Smiling tightly at Draco and his mother, he bade them goodbye and stalked off, brushing past a spluttering Ron and Hermione without a word, shaking off the grasping hands as if he were batting away a gnat. He'd deal with them later; for now, he had much bigger fish to fry...namely one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Whatever-the-Fuck-Else-Name-He-Went-By Dumbledore. He wasn't going to stand for this miscarriage of justice. And even if he couldn't change the ruling, they would damn well know what he thought of Dumbledore's machinations.

Smiling grimly as he stepped into the cool, dark chamber, his eyes only for the doddering fool that held the entire British Wizarding Community in his sway, joke that it was, and studied him and the Wizengamot critically. They were so corrupt it sickened him. Striding to the centre of the floor, he stood there seething quietly, waiting until the chattering died down and all eyes were on him, including Dumbledore.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore greeted, as if they were taking fucking tea, and he hadn't just screwed over a boy he had sworn to protect. Well, they'd see about that.

"I am not your boy, Dumbledore," Harry spat, ignoring the gasps of surprise and dismay that echoed through the gallery, all broken up by the occasional titter. "Not any longer."

"Harry!" Hermione gasped as she came up to his side, horrified that he would speak so virulently and disrespectfully to the Leader of the Light.

"Shut up," he warned dangerously, his eyes spitting fire as he rounded on the girl. "I'll deal with you later, so don't think that you're getting off easy."

"Harry, mate," Ron protested, snapping his mouth shut and swallowing harshly when eyes the exact shade of an Avada Kedavra glowered heatedly at him.

"I said, I'll deal with you later," Harry promised tightly, his tone making it evident that it wouldn't be a pleasant conversation. "As I said, I am not your boy, Dumbledore, and I never will be again. I've done your dirty work for the last time."

"Harry, I don't understand..." Dumbledore replied, trying to play to his sympathy, but he had none for this meddlesome man.

"I don't want your excuses, old man," he spat contemptuously. "You promised to protect him and this is the mercy you show? I have no use for people who can so easily go back on their word without even flinching. I want everyone here to stand witness to what I'm about to say, so that there will be no misinterpretation of my words and intentions."

Harry pulled off a medallion that hung around his neck, charmed with a golden phoenix, which dangled from the now broken chain and tossed it to the floor, waving his wand in an intricate design as he intoned implacably.

"I, Harry James Potter, of House Potter, do hereby resign from the organization known as the Order of the Phoenix. I refute all ties to the order, its members, and further more, I rescind all ties to its leader, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Henceforth, I do not acknowledge any person associated with this group, nor do I acknowledge any that follow its lead."

Harry snapped his wrist, flicking his wand into a sharp slashing movement, as if cutting through something, and the tie between his magic and the Order audibly snapped, breaking in a shower of golden sparks that left several people clutching at their own pendants as the magic back-lashed. Tucking his wand away, he ripped off the Order of Merlin he'd received just hours earlier, feeling tainted at being heralded as a hero when the true heroes were being shunned, and sneered at the medal, tossing it carelessly to the floor next to the melted pendant.

"Harry..." Dumbledore tried again, his voice soft and appropriately remorseful, but Harry knew him well enough to see through the act, down to the hard glint of cold intelligence and calculation that glimmered in those eyes as he cut him off with a feral smirk.

"I am not done, old man," he sneered, levelling hard green eyes, fairly crackling with rage and power onto Dumbledore and his associates, making their faces pale and bodies to quell under the heat of his contempt. "Not by a long shot. In fact, you could say, I've only just begun."

Meeting the cool blue eyes of his former mentor as he spoke the next words, he felt a flash of vindication when the rest of the colour drained from Dumbledore's face, fear and horror replacing the triumph and calculation in his gaze; and Harry could tell that Dumbledore had finally realized he'd just made an egregious error.

Never piss off the Hero of the piece. It only ends in your detriment.

... ... ...

Harry stepped out of the doors with a smug grin, feeling as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders and took a deep, cleansing breath; his first as a man free of all forced entanglements. Striding forward, his mind flew to the tasks he needed to see to, in order to set certain plans in motion – the first being a visit to Gringotts. He wanted his properties and inheritance squared away and safe-guarded from pilfering fingers.

"Harry, mate, wait up," Ron called, as he and Hermione spilled out the chamber doors behind him, forcing Harry to turn with a sigh. Levelling an icy glare onto the person he knew had been pivotal in Draco's conviction, he arched a brow and impatiently tapped his foot, waiting to see what drivel would fall from the red-head's lips this time. "Why did you do that?"

"If you have to ask, it just proves that you never knew me at all," Harry spat, rolling his eyes disparagingly at the nerve of this man. Honestly, it wasn't rocket science, to borrow an American muggle term.

"What?" Ron spluttered, obviously taken aback at Harry's vitriol and glanced around nervously, making Harry quickly scan the area, and noting they had drawn a crowd, he smirked, deciding to use this to his advantage. "Are you insane? Of course, I know you, mate."

"No, you don't," Harry stated implacably, laughing internally when he saw the reporters eating the confrontation up, obviously dying for a scrap of news since they'd been banned from the courtroom. A move that made sense now; he was sure Dumbledore hadn't wanted certain details leaked to the public. Too bad for him. "In fact, I'd say I was seeing clearly for the first time."

Ron backed up when Harry's eyes flashed dangerously and he continued angrily, ignoring the gaping mouths and snorts around him. "You are no mate of mine. And I do not associate with oathbreakers, or their ilk. Take that back to your master."

Turning on his heel, he ignored the whispers and questions swirling around him, feeling he had given them enough to chew on for the day. It had hurt to give up his foster family, but if they continued to religiously follow a man that was just as power-hungry and manipulative as Voldemort, then he wanted nothing to do with them. He didn't trust anyone that mindlessly pledged their allegiance to someone who felt none for those he swore to protect.

"But Harry..." Hermione protested as she followed him, appearing uncertain as to what just happened; she'd likely only wanted to protect him from Malfoy's influence, and had no idea it would spin this out of control.

"That includes you," Harry replied, his eyes hardening as they danced between his former friends. "Don't think for a minute that I am not aware of your part in this travesty. I thought better of you."

Ignoring their gaping mouths and flushed cheeks, he walked away, an evil, little smile crossing his lips as he glanced to the right and spied a familiar face in the crowd. Perfect. He knew that Dumbledore would try to hush up the day's events as much as possible or put his own spin on it, and _he_ wasn't going to allow that. It was time that the people were aware of their precious headmaster's machinations.

"Rita, just the person I wanted to see; have I got a story for you."

* * *

Draco studied the room quietly, a sense of peace filling him as he viewed the cool blue and cream tones; his room had long been a sanctuary, a place he could escape to when things got rough, especially after that madman his father supported had infiltrated the manor and taken up residence. The wards only responded to him, and who he keyed into them, keeping the rest of the world at bay. A fact that his Aunt Bella had loathed, leaving the witch pouting for days when he foiled her traps and made it to the sanctity of his room intact.

Not that they had been all that difficult to elude; Bellatrix had long gone insane and couldn't ward an area to save her life. There was a reason she'd been the Dark Lord's pet torturer – she hadn't been much good for anything else.

It saddened him that he was going to have to leave this behind; even with all his furniture and his personal items coming with him, his new room wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't have years of memories built into the walls as this room did. Although, perhaps that was a positive thing now that he considered it; some of his memories were far from pleasant. But there was nothing to be done about it.

At least he was able to take his personal belongings, which were far more than the Ministry would ever guess. The Malfoys had never trusted any one establishment with a full, detailed report of their wealth, as individuals and firms could be easily bought and controlled. They had made sure to diversify their holdings, leaving much of it out of the country and uncatalogued within the confines of the Ministry for this very reason – if they had to leave suddenly, they could without concern.

So, he and his mother were actually a lot better off than the token nest egg the Ministry had provided 'in good faith' from their _own_ Gringotts account. They may have seized the rest and the manor, but they truly had no idea that those were but a pittance of his total inheritance. Much of it was safely tucked away, in countries that held no ties to the British Wizarding Community or was held in-house, in a secret vault in the manor itself. And he had cleaned that out, sending its ample wealth to the vault in their château in Nice.

He honestly wished he'd be around to see the stunned faces of the Ministry lackeys when they finally cracked the wards and jinxes on the vault, only to find that there was nothing but crumbling tomes, rickety furniture and a very small mound of galleons (thanks to the oh-so-generous nest egg the Ministry had awarded them from their own bloody vault) that lie under an elaborate glamour And then, it would be too late, as Draco and his mother would be laughing their arses off, safely tucked away in Nice and out of those greedy bastards' hands.

Stupid, his ancestors were not.

Sighing, he turned to his personal elf, Missy, and was about to give her additional instructions on the packing they were doing, when another elf popped into his room.

"Mr. Harry Potter is being in the salon, Master Malfoy," it squeaked, and Draco tried to remember its name, but failed, as he'd never paid much attention to the house elves outside Missy, who had been assigned to him since birth.

"Bring him up here then" he ordered, waving the elf off on its task and turned to Missy, pointing to his winter wardrobe. "Pack everything in that wardrobe into those two trunks, please, Missy And then you can work on the fall wardrobe and pack its contents into the last two. Then shrink them and pop them over to the château."

"Really, Draco, I knew you were a clothes horse, but separate wardrobes for each season?" Harry quipped as he leaned against the door jamb, his eyes glittering with humour; a marked difference from his earlier demeanour "Isn't that a bit much?"

"Not all of us live in denims and t-shirts," he sneered playfully, even as he admired the way the raven filled out said denims and t-shirt. Walking over to him, Draco brushed a soft kiss against those laughing lips and sighed, pulling the shorter boy close and resting his head against his brow. "You seem to be in a better mood; everything okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry assured, placing a chaste kiss on the corner of Draco's mouth, sighing quietly. "I just needed to take care of a few things before I came over. But let's not talk about it just now, yeah? I came over to spend some time with you and I'd rather not rehash unpleasant scenes no matter how necessary."

"But..." Draco protested, closing his mouth when Harry shook his head with a firm smile; he knew that when Harry set his mind on something, he could be a stubborn prat about it, and no amount of cajoling could move him. "Well then, Mr. Potter, here I am. What _do_ you intend to do with me?"

Draco smirked when Harry's eyes immediately darkened with lust at his husky tone, his typically bright, emerald eyes shading into a deep forest as he pressed Draco into the wall, making his breath hitch. Draco had always loved when Harry got like this, even when they were fighting as schoolboys. All that barely leashed power directed at him made something low and primal in his gut smoulder and burn. When he was a child, he'd always attributed that feeling to hatred, but as he grew older, he recognized it for the lust that it was. He may have still disliked the boy intensely, but fuck, he was gorgeous and those flashing eyes, crackling magic and temper-flushed cheeks had been a turn on.

Draco had always been attracted to power, so was it any wonder that Harry affected him this way? Of course, as time went on, it had grown beyond that, but Harry's power still got him off something fierce.

"What would you have me do, Mr. Malfoy?" Harry purred dangerously against his ear, sending a shiver of desire down his spine as that low, sexy growl curled around things low in his body and stoked the fire already burning there.

"You'd give your captive a choice, Mr. Potter?" he replied breathlessly, whimpering when Harry growled again at his words, latching his mouth onto the juncture of Draco's neck and shoulder, chuckling darkly when Draco's breath grew rough under his ministrations. "That's not very marauder-like of you. I thought they merely took what they wanted? After all, what if I told you I wanted you to release me?"

"Well, in that case, I'd just have to convince you otherwise, wouldn't I?" Harry whispered against his skin, sinking his teeth into it, eliciting a startled cry from Draco's lips as his knees buckled. Oh, yes, he did love when Harry got this way; it went straight to his cock when his lover got forceful, taking whatever he pleased without concern to him or his wants. Not that Draco would complain – if he could.

"Mmmm...bedroom," he murmured, inhaling sharply at the feral grin that spread across Harry's face as he grabbed his hand and dragged him across the common area. "Missy, finish here and then go help mother with anything she needs. Tell her...tell her I'll be busy for a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours, Malfoy?" Harry smirked, wrapping his arms around his waist and tugging him through the bed chamber door before kicking it shut behind them. "Try the rest of the night."

"Merlin," Draco rasped, moaning in the back of his throat when Harry toppled him onto the bed and crawled on top of him, his last coherent thought being he didn't realize house elves could smirk. And then Harry's mouth and hands were on him and all he knew was heat and passion and a pleasure greater than any other he had previously experienced.

* * *

"We're going with you," Andromeda announced out of the blue, making Harry choke on his tea, spewing it across the table. Smirking, Andi flicked her wand and cleaned up the mess, then set it back down and picked up her teacup, sipping at the steaming brew daintily.

Harry had come straight from Gringotts, where he had spent nearly three hours changing his will, solidifying his assets and closing off any questionably draws on his accounts, and then he'd transferred the majority of the Potter and Black holdings to the continent. He had no intention of remaining in a country under the helm of Dumbledore and his cronies after everything he had done.

But he hadn't yet worked up the nerve to tell Andromeda, Tonks and Remus that he was planning to move to his property in Burgundy, a lovely little vineyard that had a respectable, local draw and limited distribution. He very much liked the idea of spending the rest of his working life as a small-time vintner, learning the ropes of the wine industry and how to run the vines themselves, having always loved working with his hands.

"Oh, please, Harry," Tonks snorted, 'innocently' resting her hand on his godfather's knee, grinning at her blushing husband unrepentantly as he tried to squirm out of her teasing grasp. Smirking at Tonks, he sipped his tea without comment. "We knew the moment Dumbledore opened his fool mouth and handed down Draco's sentence; it was pretty much a given."

"I didn't realize I was that transparent," he replied softly, doubly glad now that he'd seen to the legalities before Dumbledore could recoup and try to enforce his compliance. He shuddered to think what might have happened had he delayed even another day.

"We just know you, cub," Remus reassured, rubbing Teddy's back, soothing the baby's soft snuffling before the tot slipped back into a sound sleep. "We know how much Draco means to you and knew you wouldn't take this sitting down. It's not in your nature to roll over and fall into line no matter what Dumbledore hoped to accomplish."

"He accomplished exactly nothing," Harry growled, compressing his lips into a thin line. His fingers twitched, desperately wanting to seek out his former mentor and curse the old fool for his actions, but he had everything precisely planned out for once and wouldn't allow his temper to rush him; no matter how tempting it might be to see Dumbledore suffer.

"He lost a great deal, yes," Andi agreed with a regal nod, her lips set into a prim little smirk; Harry had no idea that smirks could even be considered prim, but Andi managed it somehow. "But as we said, we are coming with you. I'll not stay here when I can see that this is only the beginning. Right now, they are focused on Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters, but to which direction do you think they will cast their eyes and nets next when that's through?"

"Dark creatures," Harry muttered darkly, frowning at the thought as he looked over to Remus and Teddy. After the havoc Greyback and his ilk had wrecked, along with the vampires under Voldemort's thrall, he had no doubt stricter restrictions would be coming. "Or what they perceive as dark creatures."

"Exactly," Andi agreed, setting her teacup aside, looking between the members of her surviving family seriously. "Remus fought on the side of the Light, and that might buy him some time, but what do you think will happen when they have everything under their thumb? They'll eventually turn on him, because on the side of the Light or not, he is a werewolf. And his blood runs through Teddy's veins as well, and I'll not have either my son-in-law or my grandson persecuted for something that was no fault of their own."

"I agree," Tonks nodded, her arms crossed over her chest, anger flashing through her, currently, blue eyes. Then she turned and smoothed a hand over her son's hair, which flashed a bright turquoise under her caress, bringing a smile to all of their faces. "I will not have any of my family endangered. I've already written my resignation to the Auror Corp. Although, I won't send it until right before we leave. I will have my husband and son safe."

"Remus?" Harry asked quietly, wondering what was going through the quiet man's head as he hadn't said anything during the conversation.

"I go wherever you go, cub," Remus replied, nodding his compliance to Andi and Tonks wishes. "Wherever my family is; I promised your parents I'd watch over you and I'll not break that promise. Especially as I wasn't able to when you were younger."

"You're all welcome, of course," Harry smiled softly, a warm glow suffusing his heart as he studied his family. "I have a vineyard in the Burgundy region in France that I was planning to cultivate. It's a bit of a distance from Draco and his mother, but I thought I'd settle there..."

Harry paused as the floo activated, and Narcissa Malfoy, of all people, spilled out, surprising him when she immediately crossed the room and pressed a kiss to Andi's cheek. He had known that the two sisters had reconciled after the war, but he'd never seen the proof of it, nor did he realize just how close they'd become. That did explain the additional tea setting, however; he wondered where Draco was, if his mother was here.

"Sorry I'm late," Narcissa murmured, sitting next to her sister and accepting the cup Andi had filled for her. "Draco was asking me about some items in the manor, and time got away from me, I'm afraid."

"Not to worry, dear," Andi assured her youngest sibling, patting her on the hand. "We we're just getting started anyway by informing young Harry, here, what we intended to do."

"Ah, yes," Narcissa smirked at his surprise, letting Harry know just which parent Draco had gotten that expression from, and it certainly wasn't the one he'd always assumed. "Honestly, Mr. Potter, did you think you could keep it a secret? My son might be too wrapped up in his wallowing to see your intentions, but I am not nearly so blind. I knew the moment you walked away, what would happen."

"I..." Harry stammered; bloody hell, was he really that damned predictable? Looking at three identical smirks (yes, definitely a Black trait), he was worried that he'd spoken aloud, but shook it off and blushed at being so obvious in his affections. "I don't know what to say."

"Nothing needed," Narcissa waved off his embarrassment. "I've known how you felt about my son for a while, as well as how he feels about you. I'm happy that he has found that. I won't say anything to Draco as I know you intend to surprise him. Besides, if the foolish boy can't figure it out for himself, let him wallow for a bit."

"That's evil, Aunt," Tonks snickered, her mirth belaying her words completely. Draco was an idiot if he honestly believed Harry would just look the other way and let him leave without a fuss.

"Oh, please," Narcissa laughed. "Nothing less than the boy deserves. Honestly, sometimes that boy is as tunnel-visioned as his father."

"In his defence, I haven't exactly said anything to the contrary," Harry pointed out sheepishly, trying to be fair to Draco. "It's not that I want him to worry or be upset, but I know he'll try to claim that I'm doing this to be noble and, trust me, there is nothing noble about my decision. It is completely selfish."

"We know, cub," Remus smiled, shifting Teddy to his other arm and picking up his cup to take a sip of tea. "The point they're trying to make is this - Draco should know by now that you don't do things by half measures, and had he been thinking clearly, he'd realize that there is no way in hell you'd stay behind. That is all."

"Well, he is a bit scattered at the moment," Harry defended quietly before lapsing into a silence under indulgent smiles and allowed the others to continue making plans around him, just enjoying spending time with his family. He'd always wanted this as he grew up, a large family, sitting around discussing their days and future plans and he was thankful that so many of his adopted family survived.

"Mr. Potter," Narcissa said, breaking through his reverie. "A most peculiar thing happened to me the other day..." Harry's eyes widened as astute eyes settled on him and Narcissa arched a brow. He'd forgotten that as a Black, Narcissa would be affected by his actions. "After Draco and I arrived home, I was suddenly awash in Black family magic and found I couldn't speak of a certain headmaster. Draco, felt it too, but didn't understand what was happening. Care to explain?"

"Harry?" Remus queried softly, his eyes widening as they fell on his godson's pale face. Remus and the others had left after the sentencing, needing to get back to Teddy, so they weren't aware that there was more to it. He also knew that few things would explain the event Narcissa mentioned, but he would have never expected Harry to go to such measures. "What did you do, Harry?"

"I invoked an ancient ritual that declared Dumbledore persona non grata to the Houses Potter and Black," Harry replied implacably, no remorse evident in his face until he looked at Andi and Narcissa. "Forgive me Andi, Madame Malfoy; I forgot as surviving Blacks, you'd feel the magic and I should have discussed it with you both first."

"Harry," Andi gasped in astonishment, shock reverberating through her core. There were few rituals of that flavour and all came with a stigma that followed the family line for generations to come. "You shouldn't have done that; this isn't worth it."

"Pardon my language, but the hell it isn't," Harry stated firmly, not budging in the least from his stance. "If not this, then what? Dumbledore made a _vow_ to Draco that night to _protect _him and his mother. I _witnessed_ that vow. If he can so easily break this one, what else would he do to others that stand in his way? I am not stupid, Andi; I know _exactly_ why he did this and I will not allow him to win."

Remus, Tonks, Andromeda and Narcissa exchanged surprised glances with each other before turning back to the passionate man in front of them in awe.

"Besides, it wasn't just Draco and Madame Malfoy's trials that brought this on. It was only a fraction of the reason; the proverbial straw if you will," Harry continued heatedly. "He also cost me my godfather when he sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trial, then sent me to my joke of a family and never once checked on my well being, and then proceeded to manipulate my life from the moment I set foot in Hogwarts. Trust me, there were plenty of reasons to rescind my favour with Dumbledore."

"Then let me thank you on behalf of the both of us...Harry," Narcissa responded quietly, torn from her surprise by Harry's passionate tirade. "You have my blessing after the fact; not that you need it being the head of my House. And please call me Narcissa."

"Thank you, Narcissa," Harry nodded, his cheeks still flushed with temper, and now a touch of embarrassment. "I still should have consulted you and Andi. But I'll admit to allowing my temper to get the better of me this time."

"I'm not a Black any longer, Harry," Andi reminded him softly, her tone slightly bitter. She didn't regret standing up for herself and marrying for love, but being forcefully cut from her family still stung. "My mother saw to that."

"That's being rectified as we speak," Harry replied quietly, flushing uncomfortably when Andi gave a soft cry, her hand flying to Narcissa's "I began the paperwork today to have you reinstated to the family tree; so...in a few weeks or so...yeah."

"Thank you, Harry," Andi replied after a long moment.

"That's what family is for," Harry shrugged self-consciously, laughing when he was suddenly scooped up into an exuberant hug from Tonks, who danced him across the room in her excitement, while Andi and Narcissa just beamed at each other quietly, a rift finally mending.

* * *

Draco stepped back and took one final look at his ancestral home and tried to feel some sense of remorse or loss that he was leaving it behind, but truly felt nothing. If anything, he felt as if some sort of oppressive weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He'd come to hate living there in the months that led up to his sixth year and subsequent abandonment of the Dark and had planned to completely gut the place once he'd obtained his freedom.

A bitter chuckle spilled over his lips at that thought. _Freedom_. Well, he supposed he did have that now, but not in the way he had thought or intended.

Sighing, he turned his back to the manor; no, he really wasn't going to miss it at all sadly. In fact, the only thing that cast a pall over walking away from this whole mess without any regrets was Harry. He'd desperately wanted to ask the brunet to leave with him, to make a new life in France, but every time he opened his mouth to do so, he paused and reconsidered, realizing it was a selfish desire, and thus held back. When he'd developed a conscience, he had no idea, but it was damned inconvenient sometimes. Not to mention, a small, insecure part of him feared that, had he asked, Harry would look at him with sad green eyes and tell him he couldn't leave his friends and family behind.

He supposed there was nothing preventing Harry from coming to visit – nothing legal anyway – but he also wouldn't put it past certain factions to do everything in their power to keep them apart, in the guise of protecting him from the big, bad Death Eater. Never mind the fact that he had devoted much blood, sweat and tears to helping Harry, battling at his side faithfully, researching even the most insignificant details, one of which directly lead to the last horcrux, and then developing a way to destroy said horcrux without the use of basilisk venom or fiendfyre, which was difficult to control.

In the end, nothing he had done seemed to matter; in many of their eyes, once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater, and it certainly didn't fit the hero mould to have Harry in love with him.

Pivoting on his foot, he shunted the vicious thoughts aside, and began to tap said foot impatiently. His mother decided to do one last walk through, making sure that they had taken anything of value, whether it be sentimental or monetary – they would be damned if those greedy bastards got anything more from the Malfoys – and likely just to see it one final time. She did have far more fond memories of the manor than he did. But he really wanted to get out of there before anyone could catch them leaving ahead of schedule.

He admitted it; he was taking the cowards way out.

He just couldn't bear to say goodbye to Harry.

Startling when he heard the familiar pop of apparation, he groaned when he saw a stony-faced raven walking towards him determinedly, a firm smile sliding over his face when he caught sight of Draco, and somehow, he just knew that Harry had found out that he was planning to leave today. Watching his lover carefully, he waited until Harry drew abreast of him before smiling slightly nervously.

"What are you doing here?" he asked apprehensively, as if he wasn't well aware of the reason when Harry frowned.

"Your _mother_ told me of your plans," Harry accused softly, placing an emphasis on mother as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Did you really intend to leave without saying a word? Did I mean that little to you that you could leave and not think twice?"

"_No_," Draco cried, flushing and fidgeting uncomfortably under those slightly hurt eyes, horrified that Harry could possibly think that walking away from him was an easy task. He had been so wrapped up in doing the right thing, and not controlling Harry's life like so many others, as well as how hard it had been on him to leave while Harry remained, he hadn't really considered how his actions might appear to his lover. And it left him feeling profoundly shamed for his selfishness. "No, I just...couldn't say goodbye...to you."

Draco cringed at his words, sounding lame even to his own ears, and only hoped that Harry could forgive his weakness.

"And you actually thought I'd just _let_ you walk away?" Harry asked, a bemused smile on his face as he cocked a brow at his shamefaced boyfriend. "That I would have_ let_ you say goodbye?"

"What?" Draco queried, confusion lighting his eyes when the brunet snorted and shook his head, his eyes bright with emotion, and he noticed for the first time that Harry had a bag slung over his shoulder. Studying the other man carefully, he whispered, "What's going on?"

"I'm going with you, of course, you stupid Slytherin," Harry snorted, smirking at Draco's stunned expression. "You didn't honestly believe I'd allow you to go off on this adventure on your own, did you?"

"But, Harry," he stammered, a warm glow quickly replacing the confusion and surprise as he studied Harry's face for any doubts or concerns; and finding none, felt compelled to point out. "If you go with me, you can't come back. Not easily anyway. They'll never fully trust you again."

"Ask me if I care?" Harry snorted again. "The people that matter, are committed to joining me. And as for the rest, they've shown their true colours over the past few weeks. There's nothing left for me here and everything to gain by going. This is not the world I fought so long and hard for...I'd prefer to make my own place in a home of our own choosing."

"You mean..." Draco trailed off in horror at the thought of a certain redhead and know-it-all going with them, spluttering as he tried to wrap his mind around it all. "Please tell me the Weasel isn't..."

"No," Harry shook his head emphatically, moving closer to Draco to take his hands. "No, until they part from manipulative headmasters, I want nothing to do with them. Remus, Tonks, Teddy and Andromeda are waiting for me, well _us_ if you agree to my request, at my vineyard near Macon."

"What request?" Draco inquired hesitantly, a frisson of excitement beginning to fizz and bubble inside his gut.

"Come with me," Harry requested softly, a gentle smile on his face. "Live with me. Share your life with me. Share _my_ life."

Draco stared at the brunet, dumbfounded, all thought and speech suspended as Harry pulled out a ring from his pocket. It was a platinum band with three princess cut emeralds, that matched the sparkling eyes in front of him. Swallowing thickly, he raised wide-eyes to his boyfriend, wonder, and just a touch of apprehension, swirling in his heart. He did love Harry, but they were young yet, and still had a lot to learn about each other; he didn't think he was ready for such a step.

"This is not a proposal," Harry cautioned, squeezing his hand when his face fell just a bit in spite of his previous thoughts. "At least not yet. When that happens...you'll know it without a doubt and it won't be weighted down by all this unhappiness. What this _is_, is a promise from me to you that I will always stand by your side. It's a symbol of my affections, and that I always want to be a part of your life, even if it doesn't work down the line. It will also key you into my wards. Please, come with me. Live with me."

"But everything was already sent..." Draco whispered to himself in disbelief, before shaking his head to clear it. True, everything _had_ been sent to his château, but that really wasn't much of an argument; his personal things could easily be moved while the furniture was left there and used as a vacation home. But what would his mother say? He couldn't just leave her in the château alone. "My mother..."

"Has agreed to whatever you wish," Harry assured. "If you choose to live at your place near Nice, I completely understand and it won't stop me from seeing you. It's just an apparation jump or two away. But I would love it if you stayed with me. Plus, while my home is on the vineyard, the actual manor and its grounds are under fidelis, so no one even knows its there. An added level of protection for us all."

"I..." Draco stammered, looking between Harry and the ring and the manor and back again, his mind racing. When he'd first seen Harry, he hadn't expected this, but now, he couldn't deny that he wanted it heart and soul; and he wasn't about to let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

"Yes," he whispered, his heart fluttering when Harry slid the ring on his finger, feeling a warm rush of magic wash over him as it accepted him. Cupping Harry's face, he pulled the brunet in for a soft kiss, smiling against his lips as Harry's arms wrapped around him. Drawing back he leaned his brow against Harry's and whispered again. "Of course, yes."

"Brilliant," Harry rasped, grinning at him madly, practically jumping in excitement.

"You're mental..." Draco smirked, shaking his head at his boyfriend's antics.

"So you've always said," Harry hummed agreeably, snickering when Draco continued to watch him with bemused eyes. "Now lets get your mother and get out of here before the Calvary show. I'm not about to listen to them whine about my choices. I gave them seven years of my life and I'll not give them a single minute more; I won't become their figurehead."

"Bloody Gryffindor," Draco shook his head, pressing a tender kiss to the shorter man's temple.

"You know you love me," Harry quipped lightly, tugging Draco towards the door with the intention of finding his mother, who he was now certain wasn't really looking through the manor, but giving Harry the chance to ambush him. They'd have to discuss_ that_ later.

"I do," he agreed, smiling when beryl eyes lit up and Harry beamed at him, sneaking a quick kiss before walking into the formal salon. "Even if I still think you're mental for doing this."

"I love you too, my Dragon," Harry replied, his tone slightly sardonic in acknowledgement of his latter comment. Turning to his mother, Harry smiled and gave a courtly bow, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand as she walked forward. "My lady."

"Harry," his mother greeted softly, a genuine smile lighting her face, startling Draco as she had always been so formal with Harry despite his having asked her to call him by his given name repeatedly. They really did need to have that discussion in light of these recent developments. "It is good to see you again."

"Come," Harry replied, pulling out a small length of rope, obviously a portkey to his estate. Offering it to him and his mother, he waited until they each grasped it to pull out his wand. "Andromeda and her family await. Onto the next adventure."

"Why does it terrify me when you say that?" Draco muttered under his breath, holding the rope gingerly.

"Because you're wise to his antics," his mother laughed and smirked knowingly.

Harry just laughed and touched the rope with his wand and whispered 'sanctuary,' activating the portkey and whisking them away from the manor just in time, as Dumbledore and several Ministry lackeys came through the door, fuming that their plans had been thwarted.

* * *

_One week later..._

Harry sat at the table, sipping his tea, and finally getting around to reading the post. He'd been up at the crack of dawn, in an effort to ready the vines for harvest, helping cast the protective spells necessary to make sure they didn't damage the fruit or the vines themselves when they started stripping them of their bounty.

He'd fallen right into the role of wine-making, trying to learn everything he possibly could about running his vineyard, and while he knew that he still had years of training ahead of him before he'd be able to take charge of it himself, he wasn't worried. He enjoyed the whole process and the sense of peace and joy that stole over him out amongst the vines. Plus Jean-Luc was a master when it came to culling the best from his vines and he was more than happy to let the older man take the lead.

Pushing aside the personal and business correspondence for later, he picked up the Prophet and shook it open. Usually, he didn't bother with the paper, as it had spent so many years maligning him and he'd never found it to be of much worth; but this had been sent to him by a certain reporter, who promised that the news was quite entertaining. Glancing at it, he smirked when Arctic blue eyes blazed at him from the centre of the page, the screaming headline the obvious source of Dumbledore's displeasure.

**Saviour Denounces British Wizarding Community; Names Former Mentor 'Oathbreaker'**

Chortling in amusement, Harry shook his head, mentally tipping his hat to the wily news reporter, who had thankfully kept her word to bury what she later called the 'story of the century' until he was safely out of the country. He had debated on letting her have at it when he'd first spoke with her, but quelled that instinct, as he realized that if it had been reported while he was still in England, he'd never have been allowed the necessary peace or time to take care of his personal affairs.

Setting the paper aside for a moment, Harry sipped his tea and let his mind fall back to that last 'closed' session of Wizengamot, a smug smile etched into his face.

"_I am not done, old man," he sneered, levelling hard green eyes, fairly crackling with rage and power onto Dumbledore and his associates, making their faces pale and bodies to quell under the heat of his contempt. "Not by a long shot. In fact, you could say, I've only just begun."_

_Compressing his lips, he stared at the room, disgusted by the self-serving, cowardly faces watching him intently; out of the hundred or so people here, he only recognized a handful that had actually put their lives on the line to keep their community safe. And sadly, most of those people were in the witness gallery. The rest of them likely sat on their cowering arses at home while children fought their war, all of their hopes pinned onto a single, seventeen-year-old boy, who had done nothing to exacerbate the conflict other than being born at a specific time. It was pathetic._

_Turning his gaze back to Dumbledore, he sneered. He blamed that last bit on him. Touting Harry as the next coming of Merlin and allowing the people to fall into a complacency that sickened him, all because they'd supposedly had a saviour that was going to deliver them from evil, rather than encourage them to defend their own world. Pulling out his wand, he swept it through the air, beginning the ancient ritual that would sever the strings his so-called mentor had wrapped around him with finality._

"_I, Harry James Potter, Head of House Potter, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, do hereby condemn one, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, of House Dumbledore, as Oathbreaker."_

_Smirking when gasps rang throughout the chamber, he continued, ignoring the way Hermione tried to get his attention in an effort to break the spell. He'd deal with that particular oathbreaker later._

"_As Head of House Potter, Head of House Black, I sever all ties and alliances with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, of House Dumbledore, and any of his known, and unknown, allies. I do hereby cast out this Oathbreaker from further association with any Potter, Black, Evans, or any other line directly descending from House Black and House Potter. As I will it, so mote it be."_

_The flare of magic that swirled around him and Dumbledore was twice as strong as the magic that shredded the ties between him and the Order, enveloping them a bright golden flash of light as it bound each of them to Harry's oath before it spilled out, trickling to various people in the courtroom. The colour that lit around each individual denoted the person's affiliation - white for his allies and line; a purplish-black for Dumbledore's pawns._

_He wasn't surprised when the most of the Weasleys lit up purplish-black. He'd learned long ago that they were staunchly in Dumbledore's corner, but what did surprise him was the neutral light around Fred, George and Charlie; and he made a mental note to contact them at a later date._

"_Let it be noted, in record and history, that the House of Potter, House of Black, will no longer associate with Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore or his descendants or allies or associates. Any member of the Houses Potter and Black doing so will be declared Oathbreaker and cast out of the family. As I will it, so mote it be."_

_The magic solidified and cemented his words, causing a frisson of electricity to jolt down those affected, binding them to his vow._

_Silence filled the chamber, deafening in its weight, as not even a cough or shuffle or squeak could be heard in the wake of Harry's actions. Stunned, pale faces stared out at him, wondering what had made Harry not only called his mentor an Oathbreaker, but also sever all connections to the man, not only for himself, but his entire line and future descendants._

"_Checkmate, old man," Harry said into the ensuing silence before pivoting on his heel and walking out the door, the sound of whispers and general outcries following in his wake._

Coming back to himself, Harry picked up the paper and began to read, curious as to what Rita had to say about his actions and that meddlesome old man.

... ... ...

**Saviour Denounces British Wizarding Community; Names Former Mentor 'Oathbreaker'**

_By Rita Skeeter_

_In an exclusive interview, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Conqueror of Voldemort, has shared several penseived memories, as well as pivotal information, regarding the true happenings of the war. After a closed Wizengamot session, Mr. Potter shared his reasoning for breaking away from the British Wizarding Community, beginning with the stunning revelation that Sirius Black, notorious Azkaban escapee and supposed murder, was in fact, innocent of all charges raised against him, including the betrayal of James and Lily Potter. According to young Mr. Potter, my dear readers, it was Peter Pettigrew, another family friend, that had been the family's secret keeper, who then betrayed that sacred trust, resulting in the deaths of Mr. Potter's parents, and that of the twelve muggles that sent Black to Azkaban without a trial._

_Among other things listed, Mr. Potter cited a childhood spent with abusive, negligent muggles, who routinely starved and punished him for being, in Mr. Potter's words, 'a freak.' His maternal aunt, Petunia Dursley, had long since been envious of her sister Lily's magical abilities and grew to hate anything in the magical realm, including that of her sister's orphaned son._

_Mr. Potter spent ten years in negligence, pain and complete ignorance of his wizarding heritage, where he was told that his parents, well-regarded heroes, were nothing more than ne'er-do-well drunkards that died in a car accident. The poor child never even knew he was a wizard, let alone that he was regarded as the Saviour, until he received his Hogwarts letter, as no one had bothered to check on his health or well-being the entire time he lived in the muggle world._

_Mr. Potter then listed instance after instance of where the headmaster, and other notable staff and faculty, often turned a blind eye to events occurring within the school, which put the Saviour and his friends in grave and unnecessary danger. (See pgs. 2-5 for a full accounting Mr. Potter's school years.)_

_At the end of the closed session, which Mr. Potter revealed was a trial for Draco Lucius Malfoy, a noted dark figure that repented and allied himself to the Light, solidifying Potter's victory with his research (see pg. 6 for full story), Potter declared former Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore, an Oathbreaker, severing all ties between his house and that of the Houses Potter and Black (which Potter heads through a distaff line)._

_And after much tireless investigation, my dear readers, this reporter has discovered that several Light families and individuals have since distanced themselves from Dumbledore, some going as far as to invoke the same ancient rituals to sever ties in an effort to retain the British Wizarding Hero's favour This includes the Board of Governors, who have stripped Dumbledore of his headmaster title and are currently debating on a replacement; Minerva McGonagall is currently filling the role of headmistress in the interim._

_As for what's next for our Saviour, he said he plans to retire to one of his estates on the continent with his family, and the love of his life, Draco Malfoy. I'm sure I speak for all of us, when I say that we hope for the best and wish these two courageous men all the happiness in the world._

_... ... ..._

Snickering softly, Harry dropped the Prophet onto the table and picked up his tea with a triumphant smirk. The whole bloody issue. He couldn't believe that Rita managed to talk the editors into a whole bloody issue for his story. Shaking his head, he snickered once more when Dumbledore snarled at him from the Prophet's front page.

"Checkmate indeed, old man," he murmured, waving his wand and banishing the issue, and his mail, to his office for later consumption and then stood, draining the last of his tea as he snapped his fingers for Mipsy to clear the table. "Checkmate indeed."

Striding to the double doors leading to porch, Harry slipped through them and smiled softly as he caught sight of pale blonde hair gleaming in the dim sunlight. Draco leaned against the railing, an equally soft smile on his face as he watched the workers scurry back and forth, preparing for tomorrow's harvest and the first crush. Three women – one blonde, one brunette and one with bubble gum pink hair – sat on a blanket, cooing at a chubby baby with turquoise hair as he sat up on his own and played with a bunch of bright-coloured blocks, while his godfather talked to Jean-Luc.

Coming up behind Draco, he wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his chin on the blonde's shoulder, humming in contentment when Draco leaned back against him. Revelling in their closeness, Harry stared out over the vineyard, his eyes full of dreams, imaging a few blonde and dark-haired children racing through the vines, followed by a bright turquoise head, and one or two more Lupin children. He could see Draco arguing with Jean-Luc about expansion plans and Narcissa and Andi taking tea as they watched the children indulgently. And he could see Remus and Tonks walking hand-in-hand to their little cottage at the back of the property, Tonks stomach gently rounded.

Smiling dreamily, he looked up to find shining grey eyes watching him, a smirk tugging at Draco's lips when he blushed, having been caught with his head in the clouds yet again. Chuckling quietly, Draco bent down and brushed a kiss against his mouth, humming happily when Harry met him with an understate passion, deepening the caress until they were both short of breath and shaking from the intensity of their emotions. Drawing back, Draco turned in his arms and pulled him close, resting his brow against his.

"Happy?" Draco asked quietly, kissing the tip of his nose.

"Completely," Harry smiled, tightening his grasp on the blonde before they both turned and watched the sun break through the cloud coverage, their minds filled with infinite dreams and possibilities.


	10. Sin

**Title: **The Seven Sins of Draco Malfoy

**Disclaimer: **J. K. Rowling and associates own these characters. I am writing this story for fun and not profit.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Teen

**Words: **3384

**Warnings: **Not overly angsty, but definitely **_not_** a happy ending.

**Summary: **He was meant to be Potter's downfall, but when had Draco's plans ever go as they were meant?

**Author's Notes: **The next in a series of song-based ficlets/vignettes. Based on Sin by Nine Inch Nails. Since the topic was sin, I also worked in each of the seven deadly sins and even a fairly obvious biblical reference. The italic text is Harry's dialogue during their final confrontation.

* * *

**The Seven Sins of Draco Malfoy**

"_Yeah, true, according to your view, the mighty have fallen, and fallen quite far. But what does that say about you, Malfoy?"_

The first thing he remembered when he thought of Harry Potter, was a bone-deep, gut-wrenching envy. A sick, curdled maleficence that overcame him, _owned_ him every time someone mentioned the other man's name or a publication once again touted the wonders of his spirit, his magic, his parents' love and sacrifice for their only son and heir, for the kindness of his heart and the beauty of his smile. Every time he saw one more award lauded onto slim shoulders or that yet another organization had named a building, or wing, or park, or library, or hell, even a bloody toilet after him, it made his insides to seethe, to burn with a cold, dangerous fire.

It was especially prevalent after the war, when a broken and bleeding society turned to their boy savior to put them back together, passing legislation and decrees touted and approved by the boy wonder. To this day he still doesn't really understand how an eighteen-year-old could have held such sway over an entire society with nothing more than a bashful grin and a few quiet words; but Potter managed to take this shattered world and rebuilt it into the beginnings of a modern day utopia.

This, of course, was all before he married his childhood sweetheart and began popping out equally beautiful, talented children, who were adored and fawned over just as their father had been before them. The Savior's children – the next great hope and the new light of the Wizarding World; the bane to his existence. And he decided then and there that he was through with playing second fiddle to the boy hero and began to plot his downfall.

If only he could go back in time to stop that young, foolish boy, he might not be where he was today.

"_You do have it all – the enviable ministry position, the perfect society wife, a beautiful, intelligent heir and the lapping adulation of the mindless masses. Bravo. Truly – it's everything you've ever wanted, and everything you thought I didn't deserve."_

The next thing he recalls when the name Harry Potter comes up, is heat – a sweet, rich, blissful heat and an aching lust of the likes that he'd never imagined. It continues to haunt him to this day, flowing through his veins like heady wine, clinging to his lips like honey even as he lies with another – one who will never melt the chill that has since seeped into his heart.

But he was getting ahead of himself.

He began his attack slowly, stealthily, as any cunning Slytherin would, keeping his true intentions hidden beneath a bed of half-truths and a few well-placed, outright lies. He entered the ministry in a low-rung position, one that had nothing to do with the actual politics, but that was part of his plan. If he were to gun for those positions right off, people would get suspicious before he could work his magic, could charm them into complacency. This way they didn't see him coming until it was far too late.

So he worked in his thankless job, diligent, enthusiastic and generally affable, garnering the attention of those that mattered, shunting aside their praise modestly even as he ate it up, hoarding and storing it away for later consumption and analysis. These would be the beginnings to his inevitable climb in the ministry, and subsequently, his total domination of all things Potter.

In tandem to his rise through the ranks, he sought out his rival, the boy-who-fucking-had-everything and began to slowly cultivate that link, scoping him out for any potential weaknesses. It was during one of these many '_friendly_' conversations that he noticed Potter's fascination with him, and while he'd never intended to go that route, it was just one more chink in his armor. Besides, there were far worse things in life than fucking the Savior – all that power, writhing and panting beneath him; well, who could resist?

It had taken him months of flirtation and maneuvering, but eventually he'd landed his prize – a beautifully flushed, tipsy, stuttering Potter splayed across his sheets, arching under the slow, deep thrusts of his cock, panting and writhing like a two-bit tart. It was a glorious feeling – all that leashed power under his fingertips and the sweet taste of his skin under his tongue – it was like ambrosia to his senses.

And if he were to admit it only to himself, it had been the best sex in his life; he didn't know if it was the way their bodies fit together, or the play of their magic against one another, but whatever it was, it was hotter than fiendfyre and twice as destructive.

"_But what you never realized, is I never wanted it in the first place. All I wanted was to be left in peace; to have a family and a job I loved, to finally enjoy the life that was stolen from me as a child."_

Had he been a better man, he would have ended it there; but high on his victory, he kept taking everything he could, heedless to the consequences. As people have always said, you reap what you sow, and he had always been a greedy little bastard who'd felt entitled to the world. What a sad, misguided, spoiled brat he had been; some days it sickened him to look in the mirror and see his time and care worn face staring blankly back at him, mocking him with everything he'd lost.

That one night would have been enough to implode Potter's world, especially if it had been mysteriously leaked to the Prophet, but he pressed on, wanting something much more public. He didn't want a minor, unseen incident that could be denied or explained away as a drunken mistake or error in judgment. And Potter was so golden, he practically shat sunshine to these people – who would believe a Malfoy, even a reformed one, compared to that?

No, he wanted complete and utter destruction of his greatest nemesis.

Besides, he wasn't done with Potter just yet. He was enjoying those hot, desperate nights between the Savior's thighs, slick bodies pressed together, moving in tandem and chasing that white-hot lust that only the raven could provide. He loved holding Potter down and pounding into him, listening to those sweet kittenish noises he made in the back of his throat.

And while he had the Golden Boy, sated, distracted within the confines of his bed, he continued his silent campaign, building up his reputation, hoarding away contacts and discreetly placing a nugget or two of dissension within the ranks that would set the whole of it in motion once he decided on the right time. It was beautiful really – he was a rising star within the Ministry, had the good will of all he met, and the pinnacle of it all, the Savior of the entire fucking world was in his bed. He, Draco Lucius Malfoy, was sitting on top of the world.

Which is when it all began to crumble, of course; because nothing stable or lasting could be built upon sand.

"_So yes, I concede. You seemingly have it all; at least everything I had and you so desperately coveted. But what you don't yet realize is, it's all a pack of lies. Your life is a house of cards that will eventually topple, and when you finally pull free of the rubble, you'll have nothing to show for it. You will be alone and wanting and it will be then that your juvenile vitriol will come back to haunt you."_

It was inevitable that Potter's conscience would kick in and he'd try to call things off. For the most part, Potter was the honest, honorable sort and not one to hurt others, especially his pretty, little redheaded wife, no matter how distant they had grown. He had seen it coming long before Potter had said anything, evident in his elusiveness and the way Potter weakly attempted to fend off his advances. But at the time, it hadn't mattered to him because he was in the perfect position to put the final pieces of his plan in motion and it was time to end the charade.

He relentlessly and unsympathetically lured Potter to his doom that night, stating he'd just wanted one last moment with him, a final hurrah before they parted ways, guilting the Gryffindor easily with a few well placed words and soft touches. It had been another of those boring Ministry gatherings that were required of Potter and what better way to liven an otherwise dull evening than a clandestine meeting in the back? Potter never even suspected that the intimate moment would be forever immortalized in print as he'd lead him behind the curtain; one that would soon be lifted and expose Potter to the world, as he'd carefully positioned them to be center stage.

Potter froze as the first flashes of lights caught his attention, standing there stony-faced as he took in the cameras and gaping faces as whispers began to circle the room, all the carefully placed lies coming out of the woodwork as their co-workers began to speculate on the rumors they'd heard. Ones cemented when he shoved Potter away, swiping a hand over his mouth in disgust, loudly proclaiming that he was sick of Potter harassing him and if Potter didn't stop coming on to him, he'd file a complaint, scorning the man in front of hundreds.

It really was that simple.

He'd placed the right nuggets of misinformation, into the right ears about Potter's supposed activities, and it swept across the Wizarding World within hours, people tsking in disgust that Potter could throw away a perfect, fairytale marriage; that he would stoop so low as to break up the marriage of another co-worker at the same time. People who wondered quite loudly how could he do such a dishonorable thing. In the matter of days, Potter's favor plummeted as the fickle public judged him and found him wanting, and proceeded to hound him on all sides for his deviant nature.

It should have been a resounding victory, but the moment fell flat as bright, verdant eyes filled with betrayal and he'd realized in that moment, that far from being victorious, he'd just committed his greatest folly – but the wheels had been set in motion and there was no turning back.

"_I feel sorry for you, really. True, you destroyed my marriage, made me the laughing stock of the Wizarding World and have taken my job from me, but I will be the one laughing in the end. Because so long as I retain my heart, my mind, my _soul_, I will come out the victor. I can remake myself, can you say the same?"_

It was a media circus. What wasn't when it came to Potter? People gorged themselves on the misfortunes of the fallen Savior, himself included. And while he hadn't talked to the so-called press, he hadn't needed to – the stories spun out of control, each successive rumor more fantastic than the last, painting Potter as the unwanted aggressor and he the hapless victim of a schoolboy obsession.

It was oddly ironic that they'd actually gotten the gist of the story correct – just not the parts.

But rather than correct any of their assumptions, and redeem himself somewhat by admitting he had been in the wrong, he'd fanned the flames, eating up each word that cemented his favor, while others systematically tore down his nemesis in the same breath. For once, he was the center of attention, everyone's favorite and if he felt the deeper chill of this marriage bed after the heat of Potter's flame, he brushed it aside as a consequence of ending an elicit affair. Anything would seem dull after the excitement of sneaking around for months.

He watched, smug at the time, as Potter's life exploded first in the very public resignation of his job, as he couldn't get any of his subordinates to listen to him or the people to trust his word, followed by the spectacularly heated break up of his marriage. They weren't kidding when they said that redheads had nasty tempers and the littlest Weasley was no exception; in fact, she had enough of a temper for all over her brothers combined, all of who were noncommittal to the whole fiasco.

Vindictive witch that she was, she'd even tried suing for full custody of the children and the entirety of Potter's vaults and holdings, claiming it was her just dues, but that never saw the light of day, halted by angry Molly Weasley, who slapped her daughter resoundingly across the face for even mentioning it. And then Mama Weasley told her daughter if she even thought of hurting Potter that way, she'd declare her unfit and sue for custody of the children herself. But the resulting strife only fell onto Potter's shoulders once more, the public finding fault in his inadvertent involvement in the family argument and casting him as the villain of the piece for bringing such stress and dissent within the family that took him in as a child.

Potter's friends also held off judgment, watching _him_ with suspicious, accusatory eyes, and made a public showing of supporting Potter; they even tried to hold onto their friendship regardless, but with all contention between him and the Weaselette, it made visiting difficult and eventually Potter stopped going to the Burrow altogether, growing ever more reclusive until finally, one day, he was gone.

"_Enjoy your short-lived victory, Malfoy. I hope it keeps you warm at night when you're staring into the cool, emotionless eyes of your wife and facing the spoiled, disdain of your only child. And remember this..."_

And then there was silence and an emptiness so unfathomable that it ate him up inside, replacing the envy that had once curled around his blackened heart. With no Potter, there was nothing to measure himself by and nothing to overcome, nothing to fulfill, and it was then that the raven's parting words struck home – what had he truly built in his life?

He'd spent so much of his life and energy focused on petty revenge that he'd failed to make measures for what would come after his supposed victory. What was the point to the cushy ministry position without Potter there to lord it over. What was the point to all the fame, if the person you wanted to acknowledge you most, ceased to notice your existence? What was the point of working towards the next goal, when there was no worthy competition?

In the void Potter's abdication of the Wizarding World created in his life, he fell into a slump and finally all the little voices, the ones that had tried to warn him against his actions, and he'd shunted blithely aside, were back in full force, whispering in his ears that he was a great fool. He resigned from his Ministry position to many protests, and the vindictive delight of the few that had always been in Potter's corner, and retired to the manor, completely and utterly lost.

And time passed and he was quickly forgotten as new scandals came to light and new faces took his place in the halls of the Ministry, and in the end, he wasn't even a footnote in history as he hadn't built nor created a thing in the entire time he'd been playing his petty, juvenile games. Potter would go down in history, forever revered and heralded as the man that freed them from tyranny, the creator of the known Wizarding World and the youngest Head Auror ever – a hero despite the scandal that tinged his last year of office.

And he – he'd be nothing more than a small notation in the Death Eater ranks. He could have been so much more, but his need for an unjust vengeance blinded him to his true potential.

And Potter was right – in the end he had the last laugh.

"_You may have destroyed the life I built, but you will _never_ destroy _me_."_

The last thing he thinks of when the name Harry Potter comes to mind is pride. It's suiting though, isn't it? After all, 'pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.' And he had always been a prideful little twat, who always thought himself superior to everyone else – he was a Malfoy, after all. But looking back over the years, at all the pain and destruction those that bore his last name had wrought, he'd finally learned the true meaning of humility.

There was no pride in what his ancestors had done; no pride in what he'd done – destroying a man's life simply because he had been better than himself in every way, and without ever even trying. All he'd had to do was turn the other cheek; been gracious and distant when coming across Potter, but instead, he'd allowed his envy to rule his life and subsequently ruined it.

He saw it every time he stared into the cool, distant expression on Astoria's face, finding chilly blue eyes rather than fiery green; he saw it in the disdainful entitlement that he's unwittingly bred into his own son, marking him for the same hard life lessons that took him far too long to learn. He saw it in the disappointed gaze that traveled over him when his mother came in the room, her disapproval of his actions clear. She'd never outright accused him of ruining Potter's life, but she'd never had to; she had always read him like a book and seen things he wished he'd kept hidden.

And most of all, he saw it in _Harry's_ eyes, the one time he ran into his beautiful raven, several years after Harry had fled from the Wizarding World for the Muggle world, while he had been on a family vacation in Morocco with Scorpius and Astoria.

The sight of those gorgeous green eyes and thick mass of black curls took his breath away, along with all that sun-browned, golden skin that literally glowed with health as he walked along the marketplace, his fingers twined with those of another man, who was busy haggling with a vendor. Jolting when that emerald gaze collided with his and widened in surprise, he'd hastily turned away, unable to bear the happiness that radiated within its depths and remember when it had once stared at him with the same softness.

Inhaling sharply, he'd turned back, unable to resist another glance at the form and face that had haunted him every day since the man had disappeared, and pain sluiced through his heart as Harry nodded, a soft smile touching his lips before he turned away and wrapped an arm around the nameless, faceless blond who was living _his_ life, both oblivious to the shattered heart they'd left in their wake as the continued down the walk. Blinking back his tears, he'd watched until they were nothing more than a speck on the horizon, indistinguishable from all the other bodies moving through the market, and then turned away, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Harry had warned him this would happen, had all but predicted where their lives would end up – that he would be forever stuck in a cold, lifeless marriage, with a spoiled heir that was far too much like his father to ever do him any good, while Harry reinvented himself, finding a new life and happiness greater than anything he could ever imagine. But in his arrogance, he took those words to be a man's vain attempt at saving face in the wake of the smoldering ruins of his life.

How wrong he was.

When this all began, he had been the ultimate Slytherin; he came up with with a cunning plan that he initiated and fueled ruthlessly, meant to bring down his greatest nemesis and he'd been successful. It was his own fault for realizing too late that his greatest enemy was himself.

"_That is the true essence of victory."_


	11. CAM - Target Acquired

**Title: **Cat and Mouse

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Mature; Hard R, bordering on NC-17 potentially (although, I may edit it for FanFiction. The full version would be on my livejournal account, newssnoopy, if that is the case)

**Words: **2798

**Warnings: **Sexual situations, potentially culminating in sex between two men; if that's not your cup of tea, I suggest you push the back button. Characters in such situations are above the age of consent.

**Summary: **Draco wants Harry and he will do whatever is necessary to get him, including engaging Harry in a sexy game of cat and mouse in the hopes that it will garner the Gryffindor's attention.

**Author's Notes: **Written for angelggirl13 on Fan Fiction as a thank you for being one of the first to review this series. She requested the song, For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert, with a predator/prey or hunter/hunted scenario and the boys either at a club, or sneaking around Hogwarts. This will be the first of several connected vignettes, and will be longer than the following pieces as it contains both Draco's and Harry's POV to set up the premise. The remaining drabbles will only be shorter, containing only one POV.

**AN2:** Sorry for the earlier confusion, the wrong version got posted and I deleted the chapter until I could find the right version. Also, some of the keys on the keyboard I'm currently using are sticking (like the D key), so there may be some typos that didn't get caught by my read through or the spell checker. My apologies for those as well.

* * *

**Target Acquired**

Draco leaned against the castle wall indolently, looking for all the world to be completely and utterly bored, and paying absolutely no mind to the milling students as they rushed through the halls between classes; but the observant eye would note that this was a façade. True, he had no care for the insipid conversation swirling around him, but he was far from unaware of his surroundings, his eyes restlessly scanning the hall for his chosen prey – a certain raven-haired, green-eyed saviour that had remain conspicuously elusive up to this point.

Not that he'd allow the other boy's avoidance halt him; he was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's always got what they wanted in the end.

A smug smile twisted his lips; one he artfully turned into a yawn as he finally caught sight of those he had been searching for – no, not the boy himself, but the twitterpated new couple that followed him endlessly. Granger and the Weasel walked down the hall, hand-in-hand, in the throes of young love, completely oblivious to their missing party as they floated past towards the charms classroom. Licking his lips in anticipation, he bit back a chortle of glee as triumph surged through his gut; it was at times like this that he was thankful for their oblivion and Potter's unrelenting chivalry, that prompted him to give them time alone due to their burgeoning relationship.

It played so perfectly into his plans. Although, this was not the kind of ambush everyone typically attributed to the Malfoy heir; he no longer wanted Potter's pain, after all.

Draco had returned to Hogwarts under great scrutiny, invited back with the rest of his year mates who had also missed or had an interrupted seventh year due to the war, an event that had thoroughly opened his eyes. Usually he kept his head down, knowing that the vast majority of his peers, and even some of the instructors, were wary of him. And after a year of living under that madman's thumb, he had no interest in reviving old rivalries.

But as always, he did have an interest in Potter.

It seemed that despite his intentions, he could never simply ignore the the other boy; but this time, his focus had changed. He still wanted the boy, flushed and pliant, writhing beneath him, but this time he wanted it to be pleasure, not pain that spilled from those perfect red lips.

And he intended to make that a reality no matter what measures it took.

Finding you were attracted to your one time nemesis was a bit daunting; especially when said rival was the Boy-Who-Everyone-Coveted. But who could fault him? Potter had changed over the summer and returned to Hogwarts looking utterly fuckable. Rumour had it, that after he'd snuffed the Dark Bastard, Potter had escaped to the continent for an extended holiday and to avoid the media frenzy that had struck the moment the Dark Lord's demise had been announced. And judging from his appearance, it had been a hell of a holiday.

His body had matured, broadening and filling out in a way that spoke of well-fed, stress free, active days and well-rested nights; deliciously so, taking him from the half-starved, dishevelled waif nearly falling down with exhaustion at the end of the Great Battle to a gorgeous, put together man, whose perfect arse fill out his sinfully snug jeans beautifully.

Conversation had halted the moment Potter had confidently strode onto the platform, something everyone had expected to happen – and something the man himself had been blissfully unaware of – but what hadn't been expected were the lust-filled gazes ogling the man he'd become in his absence. The once rat's nest hair had been cut and styled, falling around his shoulders like a thick, raven tousle that made Draco want to run his hands through it, just to see if it was as silky as it appeared. And as he turned, the low light glinted off the single, gold hoop dangling from his left lobe, adding to the air of danger and mystery that swirled around him in a palpable cloud.

He moved with the grace of a cat, quite unlike his previous years, as he walked up to his friends, greeting them with a blindingly warm smile that left Draco weak-kneed, and his insides melting, even though the smile hadn't included him. He had taken a shaky breath, a low heat curling in his groin, making his own trim trousers uncomfortable and had started to turn away when he'd spied the _plat de résistance__ –_ a tattoo.

The Golden Boy had a tattoo.

And not just any tattoo, but a crimson and gold snake that curled around his biceps, just peaking out of his black, short-sleeved, knit shirt. The sight of it had made his mouth run dry and Draco couldn't help but wonder just how much of that delectable body the snake covered.

Feeling sucker punched, Draco stared unabashedly, his mind reeling from the changes in his one time rival; and then Potter had turned, their eyes clashing and holding for a long, silent moment as Draco's heartbeat spun out of control. Green fire seemed to encase him, stroking places it had no right to affect, and nearly burned him alive as it simmered through a veil of thick sooty lashes when Potter's gaze slowly travelled over his body. Licking his lips lasciviously, Potter's eyes flicked back up to Draco's as he winged one brow and winked saucily, turning away without a word.

Draco stood, paralysed by the heat that had built in those expressive eyes, until Blaise had muttered something indistinguishable under his breath and broke his trance. By that time, Potter had move on, loading up his trunks onto the train and hastily boarded it, sending one lone glance over his shoulder before disappearing from sight, intent on avoiding the gathering crowd. Swallowing thickly, Draco shook his head to clear it and boarded himself, missing the knowing glances behind his back and the silent bets being placed on just how long it would take for one of the former rivals to make his move.

It was in that moment that Draco had decided to make the beautiful Gryffindor his.

Which led him here, patiently waiting for his unsuspecting quarry. He'd all but stalked Potter over the past few weeks, learning his schedule and habits, seeking for the appropriate time and way to make his interest known, and finally decided that if he didn't make a move soon, he was going to go mad. He knew that Potter made it a habit to make himself scarce in the hope of avoiding the fawning crowds, popping up to his classes just minutes prior to the lesson. That quirk had made things a bit difficult, given the habit had nearly made Draco late on occasion, but it also made his potential flight from a potentially angry Potter easier.

Tossing a glance towards the opening classroom door, he waited until the masses made their way in before he quietly slipped behind the tapestry next to him, carefully hiding in the little known alcove to keep watch. Predatory eyes trained on the end of the hall as Draco smiled and a spike of anticipation snaked down his spine as his beautiful quarry came into sight.

… … …

Harry sighed quietly as he trudged up the stairs, thankful that they had remained stationary this morning, alone, as he had sent his friends on ahead of him; not that they would have noticed his absence. Ron and Hermione were far too wrapped up in their fledgling relationship to pay much mind to anything beyond each other these days. And rightfully so given everything they had sacrificed and done to be where they were today. Harry didn't begrudge them their happiness, really; it was more that he envied it and wished he could find a little of the same.

With the fall of Voldemort, for the second and final time, his popularity and fame had sky-rocketed, leaving him faced with more fan girls, and some boys, than he ever cared to have; it had made it singularly difficult to find a meaningful relationship when one had to wade though hero worshipers, gold diggers (and thanks ever so much for that, Rita) and glory hounds. All of whom only saw the rapidly fading scar on his brow opposed to the real person. It was exhausting, and often left him preferring his own company to those seeking his.

Sycophants came in all shapes and forms, and as fun (and enlightening) as his summer had been, the connections had fleeting at best, non-existent at worse, and left him completely unfulfilled all around. He'd returned to England, still looking for _something_, only to find all his friends happily paired and him the odd man out.

Exhaling heavily, he turned the corner, heading for charms, mind still focused on his relationship woes, or really, _lack_ of relationship woes, when a hand struck out of nowhere, snagging him around the wrist and yanked him behind a tapestry. Letting out an unmanly squeak as he hit the wall, one he'd deny at a later date, Harry scrambled for his wand, but never had the chance to pull it as his assailant's lithe body leaned into him, making his breath hitch as a hot, stiff cock pressed firmly against his. Gasping quietly as soft lips brushed over his ear, he bit back a pained groan and grappled with the front of the boy's robes with every intention of pushing him away, when a startling familiar voice ghosted over his ear, making him freeze down to a cellular level.

"Good Morning, Potter," Malfoy whispered huskily, sending a raw thrill of lust careening through his blood as he tried to make sense of the situation, especially as hands ran over his torso, grabbing his flailing wrists, and pinned them firmly above his head. The fact that Malfoy's lips were also tracing a fiery path over his throat, his teeth nipping delicately at the flesh over his rapidly thrumming pulse, only added to the surrealistic moment.

"Mal-Malfoy?" he stammered, completely out of his depth when another frisson of desire shot down his spine as Malfoy shifted his hips, rubbing his cock into Harry's and made his traitorous body perk up with interest. Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he whimpered softly, and valiantly attempted to clear his head, but lost the plot when the other boy began a slow, languid roll of his hips. "What...what are you...doing, Malfoy?"

"I should think that would be obvious, Potter," Malfoy teased, a sexy chuckle rumbling deep in his throat, and then spilling over his lips in an almost palpable caress, slinking over his skin like priceless Acromantula silk. "But if you need it spelled out..."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but never got the opportunity to respond as his words were cut off by warm, impossibly soft lips capturing his, leaving his head reeling. Malfoy took advantage of the surprised part in his mouth to snake a hot, forceful tongue into it, sliding and tangling it with his own, leaving him breathless and aching as all thought was lost. Groaning heartily, he pulled his hands free of their entrapment and sunk them into pale, silky hair, fervently pressing his body deeper into the slightly taller boy's without hesitation, only a bit annoyed by Malfoy's satisfied huff.

He was still completely bewildered by this fortuitous turn of events, but he was also far too Slytherin to complain.

Sighing, Harry tipped his dizzily spinning head back, allowing for better access to his neck as Malfoy pulled away from his mouth to feast on the skin at his throat, crying out softly when teeth scraped and then bit down hard enough to mark. A wave of pleasure rippled though him at the sharp shock of pain, one that was quickly followed by soft, sucking lips that soothed the bruised flesh.

"Malfoy," he whispered, eyes fluttering shut as the blonde cupped his arse, kneading it absently as his lips continued to do sinful things to Harry's mouth and neck. He took a hiccuping breath when a sure, firm hand slid down his thigh, teasing the clothed flesh and then lifted it, hitching it over Malfoy's hip, so that the other boy sunk deeper into his body, and Harry couldn't quite help the quiet plea that fell over his lips. "Please..."

"Draco," Malfoy whispered, pressing harder against him, eliciting another tiny gasp as he took Harry's mouth again, tangling their tongues in a heated dance that left Harry melting and clutching at Malfoy's shoulders for dear life.

"Draco..." he conceded against his lips, moaning in the back of his throat when fingers slid over his chest and pinched his pierced nipple. The hand and lips paused for a brief, startled second as Malfoy fumbled with his clothing, exploring the area with his fingertips until they latched onto the hoop, and then he groaned deeply, attacking Harry's mouth with a renewed vengeance as he tugged firmly on the little piece of metal.

The action sent another jolt of pure, unadulterated lust burning though his veins; few people knew that Harry liked just a touch of pain with his pleasure, but leave it to Malfoy to discover that titbit right out of the gate. Grunting his approval as Malfoy continued to manipulate the nipple ring, Harry tensed as his groin tightened, filling with a familiar heat that signified his impending orgasm, and he clutched at Malfoy, his breath growing shallow and uneven under the assault.

"Gods, so close..." he murmured, lost in that heady burn that he'd been missing since that past summer.

And that's when it happened – as quickly as Malfoy had ambushed him, the infuriating blonde backed off; leaving a thoroughly disoriented, debauched and unfulfilled Harry slumped against the wall, panting heavily. Bewildered at the abrupt halt to their activities, Harry made a soft noise of discontent, his hands scrabbling at the air in front of him and then froze once more when a silky chuckle filled the air, a hot puff of air wafting over the shell of his ear as Malfoy leaned down to whisper into it.

"Catch me if you can, _Harry_." And then he was gone.

Harry stared at the empty space before him in utter disbelief, his body hot, tight and aching for the Slytherin's touch, stunned that the blonde bastard had ambushed him, worked him up to just a thread shy of coming and then left him hanging out to dry. Growling under his breath, Harry stooped, an action made nearly impossible due to his painfully hard cock, and grabbed his bag, storming out of the alcove and entering the classroom with flashing eyes.

Throwing himself into the chair that Ron and Hermione had saved him, Harry ran a hand through his dishevelled hair and flicked an impatient gaze around the room; his cheeks heating further when it fell on a seemingly unruffled blonde, sitting nonchalantly by Zabini, talking quietly as if nothing had ever happened. Glaring at the boy in question, Harry was frantically trying to figure out just what exactly _had_ happened when Hermione huffed at his side.

"What happened, Harry?" she queried, studying him and obviously noting his flushed cheeks and ruffled appearance. "You were nearly late for class."

"Nothing," he grumbled, still boring holes into the back of his ex-nemesis' head, all the while shifting uncomfortably as his cock continued to throb and press painfully against the zip of his trousers.

"Really," Hermione observed doubtfully. "Then why are you so flustered and out of breath?"

"Had to run back to the tower for something," he muttered, ignoring his friend's smirk as he went over the encounter again, wondering what game Malfoy was playing. '_Catch me if you can, Harry?_' What the bloody hell did that mean?

"Well, then, you should inform that some_one_ not to leave evidence behind if you don't want to be questioned," Hermione snorted and touched the side of his neck with her quill, smirking when Harry blushed and his hand flew to his neck, caressing the purpling skin. "And to give you more time to get to get to your classes so you won't be so out of breath."

Blush deepening at his friend's wry observation, Harry continued to finger his bruised flesh thoughtfully, jolting when grey eyes finally collided with his, a blatant challenge sparkling in their depths. Huffing when a smirk spilled over those perfect, pink lips, Harry glowered at Malfoy and returned the challenge with one of his own, smirking when those eyes widened appreciatively and the smile broadened before Malfoy cocked a brow and turned back to his companions.

Oh, it was so on.


	12. CAM - Drawing Lines in the Sand

**Title: **Cat and Mouse, pt. 2

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Words: **2363

**Summary: **Harry gets even and shows Draco he can't be tamed.

**Warning:** AU in that Snape is alive; How, I have no idea, but he wrote himself into this series of drabbles.

**Author's Notes: **Written for angelggirl13 on Fan Fiction as a thank you for being one of the first to review this series. She requested the song, For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert, with a predator/prey or hunter/hunted scenario and the boys either at a club, or sneaking around Hogwarts. As a counterpoint to that song, my beta suggested that Harry's theme song be Can't Be Tamed by Miley Cyrus, which influenced Harry's parting shot.

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**Drawing Lines in the Sand**

A few days had passed since he'd assaulted Potter outside the charms classroom and Draco was beginning to feel a little nervous...anxious..._watched_, as the silence on the raven's end stretched out. A silence daunting after the heated glower Potter had tossed his way when he'd finally made it to class, looking deliciously rumpled, flushed, his lips tender and bruised from their heated kisses. In other words, thoroughly debauched and painfully aroused judging by the way the Gryffindor had shifted in his seat the entire class period.

Draco couldn't help the surge of pride and triumph that jolted through his blood at the sight of his handy work, blazing on Potter's face for all to see; and it had taken every last thread of his ample self-control not to stalk over, toss Potter up onto his desk and finish what he had started in the alcove. Potter wasn't the only one pained by their interrupted snog session; he'd just learned to hide it better with a few well-placed spells and glamours.

But he'd wanted his prey to crave his kisses, his touch; to crave _him_.

Thus halting things before things went to far in an effort to keep the brash Gryffindor wanting. He'd learned long ago that you had to blatantly challenge Potter to hold his interest. Plus, Malfoy's don't share; and he was damned if he was going to give all of Potter's ravening fan boys and girls a glimpse of what he'd claimed as his alone. Or soon will be.

But, he had to admit, the silence was getting to him; just as the sneaky little lion likely intended.

Since that day, he'd felt eyes on him at all times, following him through their shared common room, flicking over him during meals, burning into the back of his head during classes, pressing heavily against him as he walked down the halls. It was heady, intoxicating, and left heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. Yet, every time he sought out those brilliant, fiery emeralds, they were carefully averted away from him, or worse, nowhere to be seen.

But he knew Potter was there; he could feel that familiar ripple of magic, flowing over his senses as a lover would caress one's skin, leaving him breathless, aching, fevered and screaming silently in frustration the longer Potter drew out the chase. It was like an ash smouldering in the grate, waiting for the spark that would unleash the potential inferno raging within its depths.

Rubbing his hands over his arms, Draco paused, looking cautiously over his shoulder as he reached his destination, all too aware of the covetous eyes that followed his every movement. He couldn't see them, as he'd come to expect, and really, it was far too dark in this corner of the grounds, as the plants in this particular greenhouse thrived on shade and night; but he could feel Potter's presence. Breath hitching as the smouldering ash in his stomach sparked to life, he studied the walk for a minute longer, then turned away and continued the last few steps to the door.

He felt _hunted_; and he couldn't decide whether it frightened him or completely turned him on.

Perhaps a touch of both.

Slipping quietly into the greenhouse, he headed towards his project, intent on checking its progress, when invisible hands struck out from nowhere, grasping him around the hips, and spun him around, shoving him into the table behind him. Gasping softly as those same hands raked roughly over his body, fingernails scraping and catching on his nipples, Draco moaned lowly and jolted when the tips pinched them sharply, the pain-edged pleasure shooting straight to his cock. Silky material fluttered to the floor in a careless heap as Draco found himself face to face with a blazingly hot Gryffindor intent on driving him mental.

Staring up into fiery green eyes, Draco swallowed thickly, his throat convulsing as Potter invaded his personal space with a feral grin. Licking his suddenly parched lips, his breathing shallow as the other boy silently stalked towards him, his eyes fell to the silvery cloak bunched up at Potter's feet and wanted to smack himself for his stupidity. Potter's invisibility cloak! Of course. How could he have forgotten about that? It had been his bane in years past.

Flicking his gaze back to Potter's, Draco inhaled deeply at the expression in them, tying to draw air into his constricted lungs, but the tension rich air felt thick, soupy, almost like trying to breathe in the middle of a forest fire – one he aptly named Harry Potter – and left him feeling lightheaded and oxygen deprived as Potter pressed his lean body into his. Keeping his eyes anchored with the smouldering boy's, Draco remained silent, allowing the tension to build between them and nearly trembled, breath suspending when Potter leaned in, lips hovering over his in a silent tease. Flicking his eyes to those full smirking lips, Draco held his breath, waiting endlessly for Potter's next move, and only began to breathe once more when Potter bypassed his mouth in favour of his ear.

"That wasn't very nice of you, Draco," that hot, husky voice purred against it, sharp teeth catching at the lobe and nipping it remonstratively as Potter's hands slowly slid over his torso, scraping, pinching, and kneading at his flesh. Grunting when one hand snaked between them, sliding down over his stomach, his abdominals and cupped his burgeoning erection, Draco hissed and bucked unconsciously into the other boy's hand as he continued. "_Teasing_ me, _touching_ me, making me so hard I could drill holes in concrete and then _walking away_."

Draco groaned at the Gryffindor's words, utterly turned on by the remembrance; a groan that drew out when Potter squeezed his cock gently, heating his blood and making him impossibly harder if one were to believe it. Those talented, callused fingers worked him expertly, pushing him higher as Potter's mouth traced a warm, damp path along his jaw. Panting quietly, he grappled for hold on the table behind him as Potter nudged his thighs apart and sunk between them. Draco whimpered as a long, hard cock finally met his and slid against it when Potter began to undulate his hips languidly.

_Fucking hell, just what had he unleashed?_

"Do you know how long I had to sit with my cock drilling holes into my trousers?" Potter queried silkily, his hands sliding under Draco's jumper, tracing skin and sinew, which jumped and twitched under those rough, exploratory caresses. Shaking his head jerkily when it became obvious that Potter was waiting for an answer, Draco inhaled sharply and gave a soft cry when teeth sunk into the juncture of his neck, and he just knew that he'd find a mark come morning.

"Four hours," Potter rasped, pressing hot, greedy kisses along his neck, making Draco's eyes flutter shut, overloaded by the combined sensations of hands, teeth, lips and the continuous friction of Potter's hips thrusting into him. "_Four_ _fucking hours_, Draco; before I could escape to deal with the not so little problem you left me with."

Moaning at the growl in Potter's voice, Draco's hands flew up and anchored into soft, wild curls as warm lips finally captured his, and he secretly marvelled at the unexpected texture. A hot, wet tongue plunged between his lips, snaking and curling around his, stroking, coaxing it into play as Potter seemed to devour him like a man starving. Sliding his hands down over an exquisitely muscled back, Draco cupped that perfect arse, drawing Potter deeper into his body, pleasure crashing through it in a thick, fiery river.

"I came so hard," Potter whispered hotly against his lips, tweaking his nipples and leaving them raw, bruised, and Draco aching for more, proving that Potter wasn't the only one that enjoyed a bit of pain with his pleasure. "Thinking about your pretty pink lips wrapped around my cock; I don't think I've _ever_ been that hot and shaking and desperate for completion, for _anyone_. I should repay you the favour – leave you wanting, begging for more."

Draco choked back a desperate protest when it seemed as if Potter was going to move away, scrabbling at the other boy's back frantically to keep him there, drawing a low, sexy chuckle from Potter's lips. The brunet kissed him slowly, sweetly and merely re-situated himself, so that they were flush, chest to chest and thigh to thigh as Potter nipped playfully at his mouth.

"Luckily for you, I'm a Gryffindor, not a Slytherin," Potter mocked lightly, his hand cupping Draco's cock once more and gently massaging it, bringing a choked cry from Draco's lips, leaving him clinging to Potter desperately and growling softly at his next words. "Want to come?"

"Yes," he whispered fervently, groaning when the hand stilled.

"Then say my name," Potter commanded, squeezing gently when Draco remained quiet. "My name, Draco."

"Potter, please," he whimpered, immediately irritated with himself with his own weakness, but prey to his body's needs, which was on fire, the muscles in his groin heating and coiling, so close to obtaining that white-hot pleasure, that it was nearly driving him mad. Draco growled, beyond frustration, when the tempting, black-haired devil kept him hovering on the brink.

"Wrong," Potter chuckled darkly, stroking him everywhere, but where he most wanted it. Potter's body pressed him deeper into table, the edge biting into the backs of his thighs as the boy demanded again. "My name, if you want to come, Draco."

"Harry..." he conceded, hot relief sluicing through his veins as Potter resumed his rocking, making that sweet ache and heat build to a fiery crescendo, and leaving Draco bucking his hips helplessly as pleasure washed over him in blistering waves. "Gods..._Harry_."

Slumping against the other boy, breathing heavily, his pants and trousers damp and sticky, Draco floated on a cloud of bliss as warm lips traced over his jaw. But it was far too short-lived; and all too soon, Potter was pulling away. Draco groan as he sagged into the table, tensing when bright, lust-filled eyes travelled over him, as if Potter was contemplating swallowing him whole. Drawing in a deep breath, he watched the other man warily, sighing when Potter leaned over as if to kiss him. And then, pressing his lips to his ear, Potter whispered, his eyes glinting in challenge.

"Think you've got what it takes to tame me, Malfoy? Then come and get me."

And with that comment echoing between them, Potter moved away, stooping to scoop up his cloak and disappeared in a swirl of cloth, his footsteps sounding on the concrete as he hurried to the door and slid out into the night, leaving Draco weak-kneed, panting, ruffled and ready to scream.

… … …

Draco stalked into the common room, eyes flashing indignantly as he studied its contents, a certain green-eyed imp conspicuously missing, not that he'd actually expected otherwise. That would have made his life easier and it would have been foolish for Potter to remain accessible after playing Draco at his own game. It had taken him several minutes to regain his composure and run after the elusive, manipulative brat, but by then, his slippery little raven had disappeared, leaving Draco a sweaty, languorous mess.

After righting his clothing a bit, he'd stormed down the greenhouse pathway, completely forgetting the reason he'd been there in the first place, intent on catching his pretty little quarry and teaching him a much needed lesson on riling Malfoys. But that had also proved futile. Fuming quietly when his walk back had turned up neither hair nor hide of Potter, he'd then begun to plot in earnest.

Flicking one last glance through the eighth-year common room, to affirm that it was empty of Potter, and Potterphiles, and still seeing nothing, he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, pulling his wand from his sleeve. With Potter running around under his invisibility cloak, one couldn't be too careful.

Ignoring his avidly interested friends, sitting in a corner near the fireplace, (he was certain they had been witness to Potter's flight to his room by their expressions), Draco cast a revealing charm, tailoring it to invisibility cloaks, seeking out any unseen persons, and sighed when it came back negative. He wasn't certain if he was happy or annoyed by that conclusion. He'd fully expected Potter to hang around and watch his entrance, but he wasn't about to question this fortuitous event as it gave him a chance to implement his plan.

Stalking across the room, he quickly cast a _Muffliato_ around him, Blaise and Pansy, not wanting the other do-gooders present to inform Potter of his imminent downfall. He stood before his friends, breath harsh and erratic, looking completely debauched he was certain, much as Potter had been last week, and demanded of them quietly.

"I need a favour," he said, his breath coming out in a huff when they took in his appearance as one and cocked matching eyebrows, but he didn't call them out as they also nodded silently in assent. "I need the two of you to make sure that Potter gets detention with Snape, down in the dungeons within the next few days. And make sure that the corridors are clear when he leaves."

"Finally going for it then?" Pansy asked, a smirk blooming on her face when Draco gave a short, irritated nod.

"Oh, yes," Draco replied, smirking right back at her as she and Blaise nodded gleefully and then turned on his heel, heading for his room, plans flitting through his head as he called over his shoulder. "His arse is mine."

"Draco," Pansy called just as he reached the stairs leading to the eighth-year boys dormitory; he turned around and arched one brow in inquiry. "So, when did this all begin?"

"Last week," he replied succinctly, eyes narrowing in suspicion when Pansy chortled in glee and Blaise scowled ferociously in response. Shaking his head, he turned and continued on his way, not even caring what that had been all about. It wasn't important. Right now, he had a sneaky little Gryffindor to tame and that took precedence.


	13. CAM - In Enemy Territory?

**Title: **Cat and Mouse, pt. 3

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Mature; Hard R, bordering on NC-17 potentially (although, I may edit it for FanFiction. The full version would be on my livejournal account, newssnoopy, if that is the case)

**Words: **2517

**Warnings: **Sexual situations, potentially culminating in sex between two men; if that's not your cup of tea, I suggest you push the back button. Characters in such situations are above the age of consent.

**Summary: **Draco wants Harry and he will do whatever is necessary to get him, including engaging Harry in a sexy game of cat and mouse in the hopes that it will garner the Gryffindor's attention.

**Author's Notes: **Written for angelggirl13 on Fan Fiction as a thank you for being one of the first to review this series. She requested the song, For Your Entertainment by Adam Lambert, with a predator/prey or hunter/hunted scenario and the boys either at a club, or sneaking around Hogwarts.

* * *

**In Enemy Territory?**

Harry groaned, rubbing at his aching shoulder and arm as he wearily trudged through the dungeon hallways, finally free from that sadistic bastard's (a.k.a. the greasy git, a.k.a. the dungeon bat, a.k.a. Snape the Intolerable) clutches, exhausted after spending the evening scrubbing cauldrons for something that hadn't even been his fault. _He_ wasn't to blame if some clumsy, trembling, little second-year Hufflepuff had startled when she found Pansy Parkinson looming over her, causing her to jump back and slam into Harry, who then proceeded to upturn an entire pitcher of pumpkin juice on the tetchy portions master's robes.

But try explaining that to cool, unrelenting, greasy gits that preferred to punish someone for his father's sins rather than judge him on his own flaws and merits.

"Bloody git," he muttered contentiously under his breath, checking to make sure the great bat wasn't hovering over his shoulder when he said it, and then halted as he finally took notice of his surroundings and realized he'd missed his turn. Cursing his distraction, Harry spun on his heel and dragged his aching body back the other direction, disgruntled that this night just wouldn't bloody end.

He knew that as former enemy territory,he should be paying more attention to his surroundings, but he'd grown lax in the days after vanquishing the Dark Lout and his mind was miles away, much to his own detriment.

He was fairly certain that this detention wasn't a coincidence given the timing and the Slytherin involved; this had Malfoy's name written all over it. But the question that remained, was to what purpose? What did the Slytherin hope to gain by getting Harry into trouble with Snape? He knew that Malfoy'd had a brief conference with the Diabolical Duo – a.k.a. Parkinson and Zabini – those still in the commone room that night had informed him of that fact, but he didn't know what had been said due to Malfoy's _Muffliato_. But as it came right after their encounter in the greenhouse, Harry was certain the conversation had been about him.

Shivering slightly as a trickle of awareness tripped over his spine, Harry slowed his steps and looked around, with the uneasy feeling that he'd just walked through a ward of some type flooding over him. The feeling was unmistakable. It was like cobwebs brushing across his body, teasing his skin as he pushed through the barrier, but other than discerning no ill intent in the magic, he couldn't figure out its purpose. Licking his lips, he continued on hesitantly, knowing that a lot of security measures had been added to the castle during the rebuild, but a random ward, at the end of a random hall, made no sense.

And it made him wonder if it was Malfoy's handy work.

The man in question had been watching him for days, bright, grey eyes smouldering, and all but fucking him, in their molten intensity as they followed Harry from place to place. Several times they had hooded, sweeping over his body like a heavy-handed caress, as if Malfoy was imagining just what he wanted to do to Harry once he'd gotten his hands on him. It'd made Harry shiver in anticipation, a dark, breathless thrill curling in the pit of his gut, igniting the well of passion pooling there as he wandered the halls under that covetous gaze.

If only Draco, the bloody tease, would get on with it; the waiting was driving him mad.

Inhaling sharply when he heard the subtle crunch of gravel underfoot, from steps that didn't belong to him, Harry cursed his wayward thoughts, realizing a smidgen too late that he'd just jinxed himself. He should have known by now, that by stating that, even if only within the confines of his mind, he was inviting trouble; but one had to forgive his slow, sluggish thoughts after such a gruelling detention.

Heart pounding in his ears, now attuned to a familiar hum of magic hovering in the air around him, Harry quickened his pace, forgetting entirely in his rush that he had actually been praying for an end to their stalemate just moments before. Heading down the hall briskly, Harry licked his lips absently, the breath in his lungs hitching as he attempted to escape. Although he couldn't deny the pleasure he'd found in the Slytherin's arms, Harry had never been one to concede without a fight, and Malfoy would have to prove his worth.

Flinging a glance over his shoulder, Harry was nearing the end of the corridor when the attack came, and a hand struck out once again, yanking him into a room and pressed him quite firmly, face first, into the cool stone wall.

_The was becoming a bad habit._

Struggling slightly in Malfoy's long, firm arms, Harry gulped, his blood racing in anticipation as a firm, heavy, blazingly hot boy moulded against his back, shoving him further into the dungeon wall. Inhaling deeply, he coughed as the musty scent of mildew filled his nostrils, making him choke, and turned his head so that his cheek rested against the slightly damp wall, enabling him to breathe easier.

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" the silky voice drawled, eliciting an instant jolt of lust that shot straight to his cock when an equally stiff cock bored against his arse. Teeth caught at his lobe, a hot damp breath wafting over the shell of his ear as the Slytherin chuckled and rasped darkly. "A little, lone lion in snake territory? Did you get lost, Potter?"

"Sod off," Harry rasped harshly, bucking against the body holding him captive, but he'd only succeeded in amusing the taller boy and prompted him to sink against him, crushing him into the chilled wall as long, tapered fingers slid hotly over his flesh, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "You know damned well why I'm down here, seeing as you so graciously engineered my detention. Don't think I didn't figure you out, Malfoy."

That last little bit was a partial lie; true, he'd suspected Malfoy was up to something, but he hadn't exactly worked out the reasoning or seen this coming. Although, he really should have knowing the sneaky Slytherin as he did. Moaning in the back of his throat when Malfoy's hand slid over his thigh to cup his erection, squeezing and massaging it gently, Harry scrabbled at the wall for purchase, with the intent to push away (he was not one to sit by passively), but was quickly thwarted as Malfoy bound his wrists to the wall before he could move.

"_Draco_, Harry, it's _Draco_, as we're about to get very well acquainted," Malfoy teased softly, chuckling again when Harry huffed and yanked at his wrists, testing the veracity of his binds, and then pressed hot, wet kisses along his nape.

Harry gasped, his hands stilling their movements when Malfoy sucked on the skin above his rapidly thrumming pulse, melting under the blonde's lips as he reached down and yanked Harry's button-down shirt from the waist of his trousers. Breath hitching when hot, smooth hands slid under and up his shirt, making a beeline for his piercings, Harry cried out, jolting when fingers latched onto the bits of metal and tugged.

"Salazar," Draco murmured thickly, tugging again. "That's so hot. Always knew you'd be a screamer."

Biting back a cry of pleasure when Malfoy continued to pinch, play and manipulate the sensitive buds, Harry pressed back against the other boy, rubbing his arse against the deliciously hard cock there, and chuckled breathlessly when it had the desired affect, eliciting a helpless little noise from the back of Malfoy's throat. Hissing when fingernails raked over his chest, Harry pulled at his bounds and yelped when it prompted Malfoy to push back, shoving him unceremoniously back into the hard wall, fingers deftly working at his belt and his trousers button.

"Be glad I pulled you in here and didn't just take you over your potions desk," Malfoy rasped, his fingers slowing working the zip of his jeans down, the tips teasing his skin as the teeth slipped free. Harry groaned lowly at the image that flashed through his mind at those words. "Like that thought, do you? Me pushing you down over your desk, this beautiful arse arching beneath me as I slide my cock deep inside you, pounding into you so hard that your entire body jolts."

"Fuck..." Harry cursed, his cock growing painfully hard as Malfoy whispered those explicit, naughty words into his ear, the Slytherin's hands plunging into his trousers and pants and sliding them just over the curve of his arse as one broom-callused hand wrapped around his erection. "Draco...please..."

"Already begging, Harry?" Malfoy chuckled darkly, his hand smoothing along Harry's length, pumping lightly as he pressed his cloth-covered erection into the bared curve of Harry's arse, rubbing against the sensitive skin in tandem with his strokes. "Ah, that is music to my ears; but really, I'd prefer to hear you screaming my name instead."

Whispering the other boy's name fervently, Harry's eyes clenched, the lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he began to rut helplessly into Malfoy's hand and against the cock behind him alternatively, the flames in the pit of his groin erupting and flashing through his system like fiendfyre. Pleasure built at an alarmingly, and even embarrassing, rate, as Malfoy manipulated his flesh, the only thing assuaging his wounded pride being the fact that Malfoy was equally as affected, evident in the erratic breath and nearly soundless moans in his ear.

"Merlin...you're so fucking hot," Malfoy mumbled absently, speeding up his thrusts, both boys a little uncertain as to just who was in control at that moment; but then again, neither really cared as that blistering wave of lust built to a near painful level, threatening to overcome them at any time. "Say my name, Harry. Say it, and I'll make you come so hard, you'll be seeing stars for the rest of the night."

"Oh, fuck..._Draco_," Harry cried out, bucking into the blonde's hand for a final time, the words and action ripping his orgasm through him almost violently, the promised stars bursting across his vision as he continued to rock against Malfoy, riding out the ripples of bliss crashing over him.

"Fuck..._Harry_," Malfoy cried as he too lost himself in pleasure, a warm pulse against Harry's arse as he stilled and sagged against Harry's body for several long moments, attempting to regain his breath and balance. Winded, Malfoy pressed a light, sloppy kiss to Harry's temple and released his bonds, then lazily flicked his wand, cleaning the both of them before he tucked Harry back into his pants and did up his trousers.

Harry slowly turned, feeling lazy and replete, the lingering pleasure still singing in his veins as he watched the beautiful blonde though his lashes. There was so much that he wanted to say, and yet, nothing seemed adequate; nor did he want to interrupt the sweet languor that had subsumed them with questions of Malfoy...Draco's intentions. Sighing when Draco leaned in and kissed him chastely, Harry lifted his hand, running it through the slightly damp locks and opened his mouth, inviting a deeper connection.

Licking Harry's bottom lip, Draco took the invitation and deepened the kiss, sweeping Harry into a long, sweet, languid caress that had his heartbeat quickening and his toes curling in his shoes. Cupping Draco's face, Harry tangled his tongue with Draco's, enjoying the taste and play of lips, teeth and tongue as they slid together, intent on memorizing every little nuance of the other boy's mouth. Making a small noise of discontent when Draco pulled away, Harry looked up, green eyes clashing with a grey gaze filled with some unreadable emotion before he closed them again when Draco leaned down fo one last kiss.

And then, much like the first time Draco ambushed him, he was gone, his parting words no more than a whisper against Harry's lips.

"The quaffle's in your hands, Potter. Impress me."

... ... ...

Staring at the empty space in disbelief once again, Harry growled under his breath and set about righting his clothing, and then shoved his hands through his hair trying to neaten the mess Malfoy had made of it. The last thing he needed was to face the Inquisitional Squad - a.k.a. Ron, Hermione and Ginny, his well meaning, but far too nosy friends - with the evidence blatantly on his face, and body, especially after the questions that nice little love bite Malfoy had given him prompted. Thankfully, this time, the aggravatingly sexy blonde had placed his marks in easily hidden places.

Shivering as he touched one of the marks on the back of his neck, Harry shoved off the wall and stormed out of the room, not even bother to hurry because he knew that Malfoy was long gone. Probably up in their common room, or even more likely, already under wraps in his room, knowing the shifty, sly Slytherin as he did. Not that he had any right to complain; hadn't he done the same just a few days prior?

Smirking as he recalled his friends descriptions of Malfoy's annoyed countenance as he'd stalked into the common room after their encounter, only to find Harry mis, he climbed the stairs, making his way to the once forbidden third floor, which now, instead of housing psychotic, three-headed dogs, housed the eighth-year dorms. McGonagall said it made much more sense to seclude the returning, adult students, rather than attempting to cram them in the limited space of their former houses, as they were under different rules from the mostly underage, regular students.

Stalking into the common room, he cast a heated, cursory glance around the room, but as suspected, there wasn't a single strand of platinum blond hair anywhere within the shared space. Pursing his lips, he narrowed his eyes and turned towards the stairs leading to the boys dormitory rooms, missing the gleeful smirks tossed between the Diabolical Duo, yet _not_ missing the questioning looks sent his way by the Inquisitional Squad. Hurrying up the stairs before _certain people_ (read Hermione) could question his ruffled appearance yet again, Harry strode down the long corridor, pausing only when he he got to the room Malfoy shared with Zabini.

Studying the door thoroughly, he pulled out his wand and uttered a low incantation, whistling to himself when the door lit up a deep, violent purple. Those were some impressive wards Malfoy had erected - someone feeling a wee bit paranoid? Smirking to himself, he chuckled darkly and continued on to his and Ron's room, knowing there was no way he was going to get past those wards without real effort. And he wasn't up to it tonight after the long, exhausting detention he'd served. If that was the way Malfoy wanted to play it, then he was game.

He preferred waiting to get his revenge anyway.

It was, by far, much more satisfying, and thrilling, to watch the other boy sweat a bit, wondering just when Harry planned to pounce.


	14. CAM - Aphrodite's Splendour

**Title: **Cat and Mouse, pt. 4

**Disclaimer: ** Harry Potter characters are the property of J. K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Rating: **Mature; Hard R

**Words: **3053

**Warnings: **Sexual situations; potentially culminating in sex between two men. Characters in such situations are above the age of consent,

**Summary: **Draco wants Harry, and he will do whatever is necessary to get him, including engaging Harry in a sexy game of cat and mouse in the hopes that it will garner the Gryffindor's attention.

**Author's Notes: **I have to apologize for the erratic posting; unfortunately my computer hasn't been working right and I can't access the internet. Due to this, I have been relying on my absolutely wonderful and amazing beta Whimsycality (who is an amazing writer herself) to post what I have finished. But as we have difficulty meshing schedules, posting will happen as time allows. Thanks so much Whims! You rock as always!

Also, someone asked in a review if I'm taking song suggestions/requests, but I can't reply on my phone, so I will say here, yes, I will take them, but it may be a bit before I can actually write anything with the computer issue. I will definitely add any suggestions to my to-do list. Just leave it in your review (I can't access PM from my phone), along with a few prompts if you have them and I'll do my best.

And a final note, there is a bit where Draco calls Harry a "sneaky, manipulative, should-have-been-a-Slytherin, Gryffindor" which is a play on one of my favorite short stories by DigitalLace? Cheryl Dyson? I can't quite remember who, but it's in the story Veritaserum. His or hers was much longer, but it never failed to make me laugh, especially with Harry's nonplussed reaction.

* * *

**Aphrodite's Splendour**

Draco walked up the stairs to his room, feeling weary and out of sorts; it had been another week since his and Potter's encounter in the dungeons and he had expected the other man to have made his move by now. But other than looking rather pleased with himself at dinner that night, the infuriating Gryffindor had barely looked his way no matter how long and hard Draco had stared at him. He had to admire Potter's sense of resolve; he knew that if _he_ had been on the other end of that stare, he'd at the very least would have been fidgeting (internally of course), if not occasionally glancing over his shoulder and returning said stare. But Potter had blithely continued eating his roast and conversing with his friends as if nothing was amiss, infuriating Draco.

He was certain this was Potter's newest attempt to crawl under his skin and drive him mad; and sadly it was working.

Potter's feigned indifference (it _had_ to be feigned, as _no one_ could ignore a Malfoy; it just _wasn't _possible) had him on edge; even more so than when he had been centre stage to those predatory, bright green eyes. And he was also certain that this meant the scheming Gryffindor was plotting something big, but he couldn't fathom what it might be given Potter's recent spate of disinterest. Huffing his irritation, Draco entered his room and shut the door heavily – not slammed, as Malfoy's didn't slam doors; it was uncouth and therefore beneath them – just loud enough to announce his displeasure to recent events, missing the subtle blue shimmer that outlined his door for a split second.

When he had seen Potter's secretive smile at dinner, anticipation had filled him, burning through his veins in a sweet, dark, heady rush that had instantly made his body heat, his heart to race, and his breath to grow shallow and choppy. He knew that smile; had been on the end of it more times than he could count, and it always precluded some great mischief that Potter had instigated or had embroiled himself in. And given their little games of late, he'd automatically translated that to mean that Potter was finally going to make his move that night.

But the hours had slid away and nothing had happened; he'd even gotten up from his perch by the bookcases twice, purposefully secluding himself from everyone, and even went as far as to go for a bloody walk around the castle, but Potter hadn't budged from his place by the fire. In fact, the only indication he'd gotten that his smug little lion was paying him any mind at all, was the faint knowing smile that had touched his lips every time Draco had returned, all the while diligently working on his potions essay, completely impervious to Draco's disgruntled gaze.

It was maddening; and he had to know what that sneaky Leo was up to.

Growling under his breath, he stalked toward his wardrobe and pulled out a set of pyjamas, and then made his way into his and Blaise's shared bathroom to begin his ablutions, preparing for what he figured would be a long, restless night. Fucking Potter. He'd always managed to creep under his skin in one way or another from the moment that they'd met; he was sure the other man had been placed on this Earth for the sole purpose of aggravating him. He swore, that if Potter hadn't made his move by tomorrow, he was going to track down and corner the errant, manipulative prat and...And...And do _something_. He wasn't sure just what yet, but it would be brilliant, devious, and altogether satisfying.

Especially when he left the beautiful raven hot, hard, and begging for more.

Flicking his wand, he banished his used clothing to the laundry and stormed back into the other room, only absently noting that Blaise had yet to make an appearance despite the late hour. He couldn't help wondering if Pansy had finally caught a clue that the boy had been crushing on her since last year, and finally given into what he knew was inevitable. Rubbing his hand over his face, he crossed the room to his bed, and froze, startling when a ward brushed against his skin – one he hadn't erected. Scanning the room warily, he hated that his reaction was oddly similar to Potter's when he'd ran into the system of wards that herded the other man straight into his waiting arms.

But he couldn't imagine how Potter could have gotten past the wards on his door.

Draco's eyes were drawn back to his bed by a flash of light, breath stilling for a second when a letter appeared, sitting innocuously in the middle of his bed, and was secretly impressed. That was a complex piece of magic, to get the letter past his wards in one piece. Although, he didn't know why he was surprised that Potter could do it – one did not go around defeating Dark Lords without having learned a bit of complex magic. Staring at the square of parchment, he waved his wand over it, incanting a spell that would check it for jinxes, charms and curses, and furrowed his brow when it glowed a neutral white, indicating that in contained no magic of any kind.

Walking over to his bed, Draco picked up the note, snorting when he noticed the words, '_Read me_' boldly written across it in Potter's distinctive, spiky scrawl, reminding him of a muggle tale he'd once read (right under his father's unsuspecting nose), about a girl who slipped through a looking glass into another world. Flipping it over, he broke the seal and stared at the four rhythmic lines, and note, scrawled on it in puzzlement.

_A drop of me, is all you will need,_

_To fulfil your deepest fantasies;_

_Under Aphrodite's Resplendence,_

_You can tease your lover from a distance. _

_Enjoy the show, Malfoy._

_~HP_

Aphrodite's Resplendence...Aphrodite's Resplend..._oh, fuck_. He didn't. He couldn't have. He…_bloody hell_.

Draco stared at the parchment, the words blurring slightly as shock ricocheted through his body, quickly replaced by a need and want so deep that it left him breathless. That sneaky, manipulative, should-have-been-a-Slytherin, Gryffindor – how in Merlin's name had Potter managed this? Moaning as ghostly hands slid over his chest, indicating that Potter had just taken a dose of the potion that would link their bodies, making Draco privy to his every touch, every caress; he slumped against the bed post, desperately fighting back heat crackling along his skin as the letter slipped from nerveless fingers.

Sinking to his bed, he startled when ropes sprouted from his bed and wrapped around his wrists and ankles, pulling him into a prone position and binding him to the four posts of his bed, another piece of magic that would have impressed him if he weren't too busy cursing devious Slytherins that disguised themselves as innocuous, chivalrous Gryffindorks. He and Potter were going to have a very long conversation when this was over. Gasping when hands slowly slid over his torso, tweaking one already firm nipple, Draco squirmed, testing his bonds much like Potter had, and instinctively knew that the other boy had bound him to the bed as revenge for his own stunt in the dungeons. Giving him a dose of his own potion, so to speak.

And while he knew that the restraints were meant to keep him in check, so he couldn't tease Potter back, he had to wonder if this was one of the not-so-Golden Boy's fetishes - something he definitely wanted to explore at a later date.

Draco grunted when those ghostly fingers continued to dance over his chest, and his lids slid shut as they flicked his nipples before pinching them sharply, sending a jolt of pleasure shooting down his spine in a straight line to his cock. Breath snagging in his chest, his heart pounding out a staccato rhythm, he gave himself over to Potter's ministrations - not that he had much of a choice. Inhaling sharply when he felt a finger swirl around the sensitive nub, teasing it to a peak, Draco could well imagine that it was Potter's tongue lapping at his skin like a cat, and that the sharp pinch at the end were the scraping of white, even teeth before it moved to its twin to inflict a similar delicious torment.

Moaning quietly, Draco jolted, fire racing along his oversensitive nerves as those fingers stopped teasing his now raw and aching nipples, and slid over his torso, slipping down over his abdominals and lower, fingernails scraping at the insides of his thighs. His breath hitched when he felt teeth sinking into his bottom lip, quickly followed by the slow flick of a tongue, and he knew that Potter had just bitten his own, soothing the resulting sting with a lick. Blood pounded through his body at that thought, undiluted lust screaming through his veins at the realization that Potter was nude and touching himself just as intimately, his cock likely as hard as Draco's.

Squirming as a drop of pre-cum leaked from said erection, Draco whimpered in the back of his throat, completely lost to the fingers, hands, teeth and tongue that held him in thrall, determined to taunt and tease and tantalize with light, ephemeral, bloody tormenting touches. Fingertips stroked along the insides of his thighs, and up over his groin area, completely avoiding the thing he most wanted touched - his aching, straining cock.

Bloody tease.

"Fuck, Potter," he growled aloud, struggling against his bindings, knowing that the other man couldn't hear anything he said (unless he'd set up surveillance charms, which, seeing as to how far he'd gone with his charm work with the wards and ropes and everything, that could very well be likely); but needing to vocally express his frustration nonetheless. "Fucking touch me already!"

Draco had only a brief second to wonder if Potter _had _set up some sort of listening charm when long, callused fingers wrapped around his cock at the moment of his cry; but the thought was fleeting, and then it suspended completely as those fingers began to move, setting a slow, unhurried pace that drove Draco mental, and had him muttering darkly about teases that would pay dearly when it was his turn. The slow, steady burn that had been building at the base of his spine ignited under those talented, maddening caresses, eliciting a deep heartfelt groan of pleasure from the bound Slytherin's lips.

Gasping when the hand squeezed a bit tighter, bringing the grip just shy of painful, Draco bucked and unconsciously thrust his hips into that invisible hand, seeking more friction and grew frustrated when he couldn't force the spell to quicken Potter's pace. It was driving him spare, that slow, measured pace that slid against his flesh; heating it and making him burn, desperate for completion. Oh, yes, Potter was going to pay for this once he'd gotten his hands on him.

Shifting his hips, Draco's breath froze when a hand slid down, over his left thigh, slowly making its way over the outside of it, to the curve of his arse and then slid along the crack, teasing the skin in a soft, slow drag. Was Potter doing what he thought he was doing? Exhaling explosively when the pressure in his lungs became too much, Draco let out a helpless little moan and squirmed deliciously when that finger teased the edge of his furled skin, doing nothing more than circling and caressing it, but it was nearly enough to send him careening over the edge.

"Oh, fuck," he cried, back bowing when Potter's hand finally sped up, obviously done teasing Draco into a quivering mess. Throwing his head back against his pillow, he cried out Potter's name as his pleasure spiked, exploding over him with the power of a supernova and wave after wave of heat spilled over his flesh, cocooning him in a nebulous, drifting bliss.

Panting quietly, he whimpered when he felt a few more strokes against his sensitive skin, indicating Potter wasn't quite done, making his cock give a halfhearted twitch before the hand stilled and fell away, signaling Potter's own completion. Purring when the hands came back after a few seconds, easing over his sweat-soaked skin, and soothing his jumping nerves, Draco allowed himself to drift for a few blissful minutes, enjoying the light, tender caresses before the sensations halted.

Potter had taken the antidote.

… … …

Sighing, Draco grabbed his wand once the binds released and cast a cleaning charm over his body, and then climbed unsteadily to his feet. Grabbing his dressing gown, he made his way to the common room, only pausing in the hall long enough to cast a narrowed gaze at Potter's closed bedroom door. He knew there was no way that the other man could have pulled this off alone. Even if he _had_ gotten past Draco's wards, he wouldn't have been able to do it without it registering his magical signature in them - which meant that someone with permission had let him in.

Plus, he had been paying far too much attention to Potter at dinner that night for the other man to have slipped him the potion. Further proof came in the fact that he had filled his own glass with juice tonight, eliminating house elf interference. And finally, none of the Potterphiles, outside perhaps Granger, who he couldn't see being party to this event, had a subtle, devious bone in their bodies, something necessary for pulling of this trick. That meant the potion came from someone much closer to him.

He smelled a silver and green rat - perhaps two.

Making his way down the stairs, he paused in the doorway and glowered at the two traitors, sitting on the couch by the fire and talking in low voices; all of a sudden, Blaise's absence made a lot more sense. His scowl deepened when their heads popped up and they had the nerve to smirk at his disheveled appearance. Smirked! Bloody traitors. Stalking over to his so-called friends, he came to a standstill in front of mildly amused Pansy and Blaise; leveling his best Malfoy glare on them, one that sent most people fleeing, fearful of their immanent demise, (but apparently had no affect on his chuckling friends…or Potters for that matter) and huffed in disbelief when they blinked innocently and gave him a bland smile. Like he believed that act.

"Which one of you did it?" he demanded when it became obvious that neither turncoat were going to offer up any answers on their own.

"Did what?" Pansy asked, all wide-eyed virtuousness, which just proved her culpability in Draco's eyes.

"Put the potion in my drink," he snorted, arching a brow when that still prompted no reaction. "I know it wasn't Potter - I had been watching him all evening, and he never made a move towards my drink. And there is no way that it was any of the Potterphiles as they lack the necessary subtlety and finesse to pull this off without my noticing. Everyone else is too terrified to face my wrath, so that leaves the two of you."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Blaise smirked knowingly as he crossed his hands behind his head and leaned back into the couch, making Draco's eyes narrow with irritation.

"You will tell me, or I will…" he threatened, beginning to lose the hold on the thin reins of his temper.

"Oh, hush," Pansy snorted, rolling her eyes when he glared at her interruption, and continued with an unrepentant grin. "You will do nothing, as, from the look of things, you quite enjoyed yourself." Smirking when he flushed and looked away, and then self-consciously straightened his dressing gown, she pointed out the true problem in her usual shrewd, no-nonsense way. "Being a near potions master, you're just mad that you didn't think of it first."

And it was true; not that he'd ever admit to it.

"I have to admit, I'm reluctantly impressed," Blaise agreed, humming under his breath. "That was quite cunning of Potter; he made that potion right under your nose in our independent lab session today. You didn't even notice as you were too busy burning holes into his arse. At one time, I would have argued that the terms Gryffindor and cunning were an oxymoron, but he managed to outfox the snake."

"Actually, I heard a rumour, years back that Potter was nearly sorted into Slytherin," Pansy mused, snickering at Draco's flabbergasted expression. "I scoffed at the time, but now, I wonder if there is more truth to that rumour than I thought given his recent actions."

Potter?

A Slytherin?

That…that…actually made so much sense that he wanted to scream. No wonder he'd kept getting the better of Draco over the years, and managed to wiggle his way out of trouble time and again. Scowling at this new information, Draco tapped his fingers against his lips, wondering just what it was that he needed to do in order to capture his elusive lion-snake. Blowing out an exasperated breath, he shook his head and gave it up for the evening - he was far too tired and satiated to plot properly. Fixing his friends with a haughty glare, he pointed a finger at them, not about to forget their part in tonight's entertainment.

"You will…" he began, but was once again cut off by Pansy.

"Yes, yes, yes…we know… you will pay…blah, blah…torment…torture…blah," she mocked, arching a finely-groomed brow when he pursed his lips into a thin line. "We're trembling…truly.

Growling under his breath, he turned on his heel and left the room at a sedate pace, not giving them the satisfaction he'd given Potter earlier by storming away. He would deal with them eventually - there were many ways to deal with his faithless house mates, especially given a certain secret crush. But first, he had better things to do, like plotting how he was going to bring Potter to his knees.

In a most delicious and pleasurable way of course.

So, his lion-snake wanted to play games? Perhaps it was time to remind him who was the game master.


	15. CAM - Rules of Engagement

**AN:** While I'd like to say I was clever enough to think of the Seeker game on my own, I'm not. I recently read about it in the story Dragon Tamer by Jenavere and it just fit this version of Harry and Draco so well, that I couldn't help using the idea.

* * *

**Rules of Engagement**

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, blocking out the chattering students around him, trying to decide what to do with his day. It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and most of his friends were discussing where they wanted to go and making plans to meet for lunch; he himself had several invites and people kept asking after his own plans, but Harry pretended not to hear. He wasn't trying to be rude - far from it - he just knew how this would end – they'd all go in a group, fully intending to spend the day together and then one by one, the couples would break off, leaving Harry on his own. And while in most times he wouldn't mind his own company, _today_ was _not_ one of those days.

It just served as reminder of his own loneliness.

Picking at his breakfast, he looked around the Great Hall, his eyes falling on a smug blond, who was caught up in some sort of debate with Zabini and Parkinson, the three of them talking heatedly before Malf…Draco - he really should call him by his given name after all they'd done - turned away with a smirk, leaving the other two sulking in their breakfast. Harry laughed internally and wondered if he was still giving them hell for their part in his surprise last week; that Harry had, not only managed to brew that potion right under Draco's nose, _and_ had it administered by his own friends' hands (although, not without a hefty payment - they _were_ Slytherins), was quite the coup.

Licking his lips, he recalled all too well the heated look sent his way during breakfast the morning after; one that made him shiver as Draco's eyes raked over him, as if the Slytherin were torn between hexing Harry into oblivion or pushing him on top of the table and fucking him in plain sight of everyone. Harry had met his hot gaze and quirked a brow, smirking as Draco strode over to his usual seat, and then stilled when Harry blew him a little kiss, ruffling his feathers just a touch more, and bringing an adorable little scowl to his face.

It had been supremely satisfying; and he couldn't wait to see what Draco dreamed up in retaliation.

Turning his head slightly, he continued to watch Draco from beneath his lashes, noting that the pleased smirk had deepened, taking on an edge of mischief; one reminiscent of Harry's just the week before, and that made Harry slightly nervous. Nothing good could come from that smile. And he was certain that the blond had something planned; but the question was - who was his intended victim, the Diabolical Duo or himself?

If it were himself, it would be just about the right time. Harry had noticed a pattern of five to seven days between their games and at six days hence, he knew that he was due. Something that became readily apparent as he caught a glimmer out of the corner of his eye, and his mouth dried, his breath coming in a soft, shallow pants as a majestic, eagle owl circled overhead once before imperiously dropping a letter near his hand and flew off with haughty disdain. As if delivering the letter to him was beneath the bloody bird's notice. He only knew of one person that had that breed of owl, and judging by the smirk that quirked Draco's lips, Harry knew exactly who sent the letter.

"What's that?" Hermione asked curiously, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

"Nothing," Harry murmured, licking his lips and swallowing thickly, his heart picking up tempo as he reached for the note.

"Harry!" she hissed, causing him to look at her in confusion, understanding dawning only when she continued In a scandalized tone. "You shouldn't pick that up! Who knows what it might be!"

"Leave it, Hermione," Harry said, waving her off negligently. "I'm expecting it."

"But…" Hermione protested, raising her hand as if she were going to snatch the offending letter away, halting only when Harry pinned her with an irritated moue. Honestly, with the way his friends acted sometimes, people would believe he was completely incapable of caring for himself.

"_Hermione_," he interrupted, sighing when she set her mouth into a disapproving frown that reminded him of McGonagall. "Do I pry into your every correspondence with Ron?"

"No, but what does that have to do with…" Hermione asked, exasperated, until he sent her a pointed look, causing his friend to flush as comprehension dawned. "_Oh_. Oh, I see."

"Yes," he smiled thinly, feeling a bit peevish at her inquiry.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she replied a little sheepishly. Harry nodded in acknowledgement, but otherwise ignored the incessant curiosity that was nearly eating her alive as she studied the letter thoughtfully. But thankfully she didn't ask, a fact that had relief coursing through his veins as he wasn't sure just what he would tell her about the letter writer's identity. He wasn't quite ready to divulge anything about Draco's and his…relationship?

If one could call it that.

"It's okay, Hermione," he smiled, genuinely this time. "I know you worry, but please accept that I know who this is from and I'm not ready to discuss it. Not at this time."

Hermione nodded and turned back to her breakfast, shelving the conversation for now as Ron slid into the seat next to her and they began to discuss their plans for the day. Harry tuned them out and opened his letter, his brows rising into his hairline and blood burning at the inscribed words.

_I propose, if you choose_

_A Seeker__'__s game with altered rules_

_With you the golden quest _

_This seeker__'__s skills put to the test_

_If not caught by day__'__s done_

_Your greatest wish you will have won_

_If the reverse is true_

_A suiting fate awaits for you _

… … …

**Rules of Engagement**

1. No invisibility cloak, disillusionment spells, or any magic of any kind for that matter, to hide.

2. No usage of secret passages (I know you know some, Potter; don't even try to deny it); you must stick to the common corridors and rooms of the castle only - that also means no Hogsmeade, no greenhouses, no Forbidden Forest, no Come and Go Room, no common rooms other than our own and definitely no hiding out in your own room.

3. No hexes/jinxes/charms to prevent capture during game play; you are to only use your own cunning (yes, I said cunning - I know you're a closet Slytherin, Potter) and evasion tactics.

4. You get a one-hour reprieve at noon and 6 p.m. to eat, as you will need to keep up your strength for events to come if play goes that long.

5. Game play begins at ten and ends at midnight.

… … …

_~ Scared, Potter?_

_DM_

Harry smirked at the familiar taunt, recalling the way they faced off against each other during second year and flicked his eyes up to meet the challenge shining from grey depths, and mouthed. '_You wish._'

Glancing over at Hermione, he was thankful to note that she was now involved in a conversation with Neville about the properties of aconite, and how to best utilize it outside the Wolfsbane potion, and sighed with relief. Flicking his eyes back to Draco, he nodded once and stuffed the note into his pocket, hurriedly eating as he knew he had only twenty minutes reprieve before the hunt was on. The slow, sexy smirk he received in return sent a delicious shiver tripping down his spine, filling him with that dark sense of anticipation that came with each of their trysts.

This was certainly a different approach.

Usually Draco ambushed him without any warning, dragging him into a room or closet from the main corridors, giving him little chance to react or counter his move. That he spelled out the terms of the game so blatantly - well, he had to admit it was actually quite brilliant. Now Harry would spend the entire day looking over his shoulder, anticipating an attack, his mind torn between what might happen if he were to be caught, and what he might he gain if he weren't; but his thoughts would always be on Draco nonetheless.

Cheeky Slytherin bastard.

Quickly finishing his breakfast, he nodded at Hermione, not even giving her a chance to ask him questions, as he swiftly made his way out of the great Hall, shivering when predatory eyes pressed into his back. Flicking a quick glance over his shoulder, his heart rate tripled as he caught a bright, burning, grey gaze and then he lost himself in a crowd of milling students, mentally making plans for evading the devious Slytherin, only a small part of him wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

… … …

It was an hour into the hunt, and Harry was out of breath, flushed and harder than he'd ever been, his cock pressing uncomfortably into the front of his jeans. And he was certain that he figured out Draco's diabolical plan - by telling him of the chase in advance, he'd made certain that Harry's movements were… hindered, due to _certain_ conditions. Carefully peeking around a corner, he sighed in relief when he saw the corridor leading to the library was empty, and quickly made his way to it, slipping within the cool, quiet confines for a bit of a rest.

His stomach fluttered nervously as he passed students, each flash of blond hair making him jolt until he confirmed it wasn't one particular shade of platinum. It was maddening, knowing that Draco was _literally_ hunting him today, the thought making his body tighten, twitch and burn with a far too obvious interest judging by the smirks he'd derived on occasion. Groaning and blushing at one such lewid look, Harry made his way to the back of the room, certain it would give him a moment's respite from the game, and missed the twin sly smiles and nod from a petite blonde girl, who quickly penned a note and sent it on its way with a muttered spell.

Leaning heavily against the books, Harry closed his eyes and was thankful of the shadows that obscured him from prying eyes, as he didn't feel up to explaining why he was hiding in the library. inhaling steeply, his lashed fluttered and he stiffened just a touch when the familiar scent of citrus and something woodsy tickled his nose. Eyes popping open, Harry's breath hitched familiar wave of magic shifted within his vicinity, the sensation washing over his body and leaving it tingling with a gut wrenching awareness. Narrowing his eyes, Harry held his breath, his heart thrumming a wild staccato rhythm, and a trickle of sweat slowly snaked down his back as thetelltale shuffle of steps reached his ears from a couple of shelves down.

"I know you're here, _Harry_," Draco taunted, pitching his voice to carry, but low enough not to garner attention. Swallowing harshly, Harry cursed under his breath when his cock filled and gave an unhelpful twitch, and then stiffened further when a soft, silky chuckle filled his ears. Fuck. That laugh always made his insides burn and clench.

Harry kept quiet, not about to give away his position. Maybe if he were completely still Draco wouldn't have a clue of his direction.

"I can smell you, you know," Draco continued in that same low, silky conversational tone that made heat pool in his groin, caressing things it shouldn't have the ability to touch. "Apples… rain… and this sweet, almost grassy, earth scent that I can never quite define, but is entirely intoxicating. Really, Harry, with all the times we've been… up close and personal, you would think you'd realize I'd know when you're near."

Fuck. He hadn't thought about that.

He wondered if it were too late to cast a scent dampening charm. Likely, as while it might dampen it now, his scent would still linger in the air unless he also cast an air-fresh charm; that oath charms would violate the rules that he'd agreed to before they'd begun. Stepping carefully, he slid along the bookcases, slipping further into the shadows as those distinctive footsteps drew nearer. Keeping his eyes anchored in the direction of the soft, echoing footsteps, Harry slid around a corner and then turned, nearly jumping out of his skin when someone laughed almost right against his ear. Whipping his head around, he cursed fervently as gleeful grey eyes met his from no more than four feet away.

"Gotcha!" Draco chortled triumphantly.

Draco's lips curled into a smug smile; one that sent the butterflies in Harry's stomach into a mad flutter as he rapidly backtracked and slammed against the bookcase behind him, making it creak ominously. Licking his lips, Harry watched with wide-eyed trepidation as Draco stalked closer, slowly, drawing out his steps as if he were revelling in his nemesis' titillated fear, and could only praise whichever benevolent deity that had been watching over him when a cool, no-nonsense voice carried down the row of books just as Draco reached out to grab him.

"Just what do you two think you are doing?" Pince demanded waspishly, fixing them both with an evil glare as she stormed towards them. "You had better not be fighting in my library."

"Not at all, madam," Harry reassured, grinning like a demon when Draco scowled and pulled back, almost pouting and obviously irritated that they had been interrupted. "In fact, I was just leaving."

Harry saluted Draco and then slipped around the corner, thankful for the woman's obsessive regard for the books she kept as he slipped into the main walkway, her voice ringing through that section as she detained Draco long enough for Harry to make his escape.

"Oh, no you don't Mr. Malfoy. I'm not letting you continue this in the halls."

Bless that woman. He really had to find her a suitable thank you gift.

… … …

Harry walked into Great Hall warily, cautious green eyes scanning the room in search of his blond tormentor as he headed to the Gryffindor table for lunch; he knew that Draco had said that he had an hour at noon to eat, but he wasn't holding his breath. Draco had been known to break the rules when it suited him and Harry wasn't going to leave his guard down no matter their agreement. Giving another cursory glance, Harry sighed and relaxed minutely as he realized that the blond was nowhere to be seen. He had purposely waited until half past the hour in the hope that he'd miss the smug bastard, who was likely smarting from the verbal lashing he'd gotten from Pince and Harry wasn't all that certain he wanted to be anywhere near the Slytherin at the moment.

Sitting down, Harry filled his plate and had just taken his first bite when a flash of platinum caught his attention when Draco entered the room and sat at the Slytherin table; and Harry couldn't help feeling grateful that McGonagall had kept the eighth years in their house groups for meals. He wasn't certain what he might do if Draco were sitting across from him, or worse, next to him, breathing down his neck, and potentially within snogging distance. Their game was having a severe reaction in Harry's body, and he was a bit worried that he might give in if Draco were within arms reach.

Making quick work of his food, Harry blatantly ignored the gaze that slid over him like a heated caress, stroking at those invisible things inside once again, eliciting a surge of white-hot lust that careened through his system. Fighting back the urge to simply go up to the Slytherin and snog him senseless, thus ending the game, Harry waited until Draco was distracted by a housemate, and then stood, quickly scurrying out of the room under amused eyes. Perhaps he could use the remaining minutes for a quick wank instead.

… … …

Harry stormed away from his chosen bathroom, his fabulous wank session interrupted by a nosy, deviant teenage ghost, who was far too interested in Harry's activities for his comfort. Drawing a quick breath, he grumbled and stalked down the hall in a fine temper, wondering just why McGonagall hadn't yet banished the little perv from the building. Or at the very least, found a way to confine her activities to the girls' bathrooms. Honestly, having his perfectly good wank ruined by a voyeuristic ghost did nothing for Harry's raging libido. Although, he supposed he did have to thank Myrtle - his problem was definitely _not_ a problem any longer.

Huffing to himself, he walked down the hall and then froze as he caught sight of a smirking Slytherin, leaning negligently against the wall with half-mast eyes and a knowing smile pasted on his lips. Narrowing his eyes, Harry watched in disbelief as Draco shook an admonishing finger in his direction and suddenly Myrtle's little visit took on new meaning. Draco couldn't interfere himself in that time period per his own rules, but that didn't stop him from utilizing outside interference. He'd bet that Draco hadn't even suggested Myrtle interrupt, but merely mentioned that Harry was in the bathroom and that would have been more than enough incentive for Myrtle.

That sneaky, underhanded, bratty, pain in the arse…

"Do you know what time it is, Potter?" Draco drawled smugly, startling Harry into glancing at his watch, and he cursed when he noted that it was two minutes past one, and play had recommenced.

"Fuck," he muttered, hastily backing up a few paces and glancing around with an edge of a panic as he sought a way out of his predicament.

"Not quite yet," Draco promised with a predatory grin. "But soon."

"Not bloody likely," Harry huffed, scrambling out of reach of the blonde's grasping hands and cursed the distraction that had led him here. He should have known something was afoot when Myrtle had shown up out of nowhere, in a bathroom she didn't typically haunt. She was much more partial to the Prefect's Bathroom. "You actually have to _catch_ me first, Malfoy."

"Now, now, now, Potter," Draco replied silkily, a sly smile touching his lips as he closed the distance between them. "Just where do you think you can go?"

And that was a great question, really.

He could run back the other way, but Draco would be on him in two steps due to his height. And he couldn't very well go swanning past him; that would just be begging to get caught. And while he might be able to get behind closed doors, he certainly didn't want to find himself trapped in any of the rooms lining the hallway - after all, he had to emerge at some point, and he doubted Draco would walk away from such temptation. He was utterly fucked.

And then, for the second time that day, the Gods smiled upon him as McGonagall came into view. Really, he had to have some benevolent deity standing guard because his own luck only took him so far. Staring at his former head of house as she were the only oasis in the midst of a vast desert plain, Harry smiled and cried out in delighted surprise, "Professor!"

Draco halted, grimacing as he was once again foiled by an instructor's interference.

"Did you need something, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall asked, eyeing the two boys with bland curiosity, seeming a bit surprised at their combative stances given the fact that neither of them had caused much upset that year. But Harry was completely oblivious to her question as Draco's expression promised him all sorts of wicked, sinful things, sending a frisson of electricity dancing across his nerves, making him flush with desire. Licking his lips, Harry's breath hitched, and his pupils dilated when Draco mimicked the action, leaving his lips wet and glistening in the low light. "Mr. Potter?"

"Oh…um…I…" Harry stammered, tearing his gaze from Draco to land onthe headmistress. Flushing even hotter when she quirked a brow at his odd behavior, Harry squirmed under her gaze, desperately hoping that his renewed erection wasn't visible. Draco grinned at his obvious discomfort and began to saunter nonchalantly down the hall. "No, sorry, it's nothing, Professor."

"Is Mr. Malfoy giving you problems?" she queried, eyeing Draco with a frown.

"No!" Harry exclaimed, bringing her gaze back to him, causing his flush to deepen even further when she studied him thoughtfully and a keen understanding filled her eyes. Bollocks. That was all he needed. "I mean, it's fine…we're just…um…we're fine." Harry stammered, glancing back at Draco and shivering in appreciation when he once again licked his lips slowly and then threw him a tiny kiss over his shoulder, sucking all the air from his lungs as Harry scrambled away, squeaking out as he left. "Gotta go."

Harry scurried down the hall, wanting to put a healthy distance between him and a certain blond, knowing that Draco wouldn't be that far behind, and nearly died of mortification as he heard McGonagall walk off, muttering under her breath.

"Whatever happened to the nice, normal courtships of old…"

… … …

Harry pelted down the hall, running around a corner in the hopes of outrunning the predator intent on his trail. He had thought that by hanging around Trelawney's tower, Draco would never think to look for him here. Everyone was well aware of Harry's opinion on divination and prophecy, having been the focal point of one his entire youth; the divination tower was the last place people would search for Harry - which is likely why the sneaky bastard had come there, deftly foiling Harry's attempt to remain elusive.

Cursing that telltale flash of platinum when he glanced over his shoulder, Harry slipped around a corner and ran into a dead end, sending his panic and ire rocketing to new heights for boxing himself in - the only way out now was to either turn back or go up. And judging by the rapidly approaching footsteps, going back the other way was a folly. Reacting instinctively, Harry began to climb the stairs to Trelawney's classroom, hoping against hope that he'd find somewhere to hide in that nauseatingly overblown tearoom until Draco gave up.

A long shot he knew, but he really had no other choice.

Creeping silently around the room, Harry scanned it swiftly before making his way to the far wall and slipped into the shadows, pressing himself deep into the cool stone just as he heard the almost triumphant clomp of boots and a wicked laugh coming up the staircase. Biting his lip to keep from whimpering, Harry swallowed thickly, his breath hitching inaudibly as Draco's head popped into view. Clenching his fingers, Harry frantically tried to think of a way out of his predicament and couldn't come up with a damned thing - being dinnertime, there would be no interference from others and he wasn't about to attempt climbing out the window. Yet.

In short, he was doomed.

"Nowhere to run now, _Harry_," Draco drawled gleefully as he stepped lightly into the room, fervent silver eyes running greedily over it, like a hawk seeking prey, and Harry barely bit back a moan of want as heat filled his belly, making it twist and burn and clench almost painfully. A small, smug smile slid over the blond's lips, eliciting a fine tremor of need throughout Harry's body as he sing-songed. "Come out, come out, wherever you are."

Harry's cock jolted to awareness at the tone, making him gasp softly as it pressed uncomfortably into the zip of his jeans and renewed his mental cursing when the tiny sound drew Draco's eyes to his hiding place. Sinking his teeth harshly into his bottom lip, Harry watched in fevered anticipation, a trickle of sweat running along his spine as Draco's smile broadened, and displayed a predatory flash of teeth as Draco stalked across the room. Licking his suddenly parched lips, Harry swore under his breath, bringing yet another silky chuckle from his nemesis, and made a rash decision - despite the utter futility of it, once Draco was close enough, he'd make an attempt to escape.

Better that than to stand by and passively wait for capture.

Waiting until Draco was only a few feet away, Harry launched himself away from the wall, hoping that the sheer force of their colliding bodies would knock the other boy off balance enough for Harry to slip around him and down the steps to freedom. But Draco must have anticipated the like, as he had his feet firmly planted and the blow barely rocked him, and instead knocked Harry off center as two arms wrapped around him with a seeker's swiftness, sending them hurtling towards the ground.

"Gotcha," Draco crowed triumphantly, firing off a quick enlargement charm on the nearest garish pillow, making it expand to an almost five-foot square, cushioning their fall. Harry cried out as they impacted, the wind knocked from his lungs as he squirmed against the boy at his back, as Draco rasped hotly into his ear. "And Malfoy catches the snitch. Slytherin wins."

"Fuck," Harry cursed fervently, bucking against Draco, but the Slytherin had him pinned but good, and no amount of wriggling would dislodge him. In fact, it just seemed to excite and encourage the other boy. Harry groaned and slumped against the surprisingly soft cushion when a hot, hard cock pressed into his arse, knowing without a doubt that he was caught this time.

"No, not yet," Draco whispered, sinking his teeth into the lobe of Harry's ear, eliciting another heartfelt groan of defeat from his captive as hands wandered the length of Harry's body, making his blood heat and his body trembled with desire even as he swore violently under his breath. Chuckling at Harry's grousing, Draco pressed him further into the makeshift bed and promised in a low, forceful tone. "But definitely something along those lines."

Harry's breath hitched at those words, lust drunk as Draco deftly flipped him over and pinned him firmly to the pad with his own body, settling it firmly between Harry's parted thighs. Moaning low in the back of his throat when Draco pressed into him, hip to hip, and cock to cock, Harry scrambled for hold and grasped Draco's hips, his fingers clutching into the soft skin as he helplessly bucked into that inviting heat. Fuck, he was already so turned on by their game that he doubted he'd last more than five minutes.

"Look at you," Draco husked beside his ear, fevered silver eyes sliding hungrily over Harry's prone form, sending yet another frisson of excitement dancing over his nerves, making him nearly incoherent with a passion so deep, he thought he just might die from the sensation. Especially when Draco answered his initial thrust with a slow, sinuous roll of his own hips, drawing a tiny cry of need past Harry's lips. "So beautiful, spread out beneath me. Been dreaming of this for weeks."

Harry never got the chance to respond as lips crashed into his, and Draco's tongue swept demandingly past his, and curled around his own. Humming in pleasure as Draco explored his mouth thoroughly, Harry tugged at the other boy's shirt, and hastily pulled it from his trousers, and slid his hands up underneath to trace Quidditch-toned muscles, needing more skin, more pressure, more everything.

Laughing softly against Draco's lips when his explorations extracted a mewl of need from his captor, Harry startled, and then sighed when that talented mouth suddenly ripped away from his and Draco tore at his shirt, desperately trying to divest it.

"Need to see that tattoo," Draco muttered, stripping that last of Harry's shirt from his body, revealing the red and gold snake Harry hadn't gotten on a whim that past summer, but as a reminder of and a way of embracing the duel houses that dominated his personality. "Been driving me mad."

Harry froze as Draco stared down at him, breath stilling in his lungs as he realized that this was the first time either of them had been even partially nude in front of the other outside the Quidditch locker room, and he couldn't help feeling a bit insecure. Licking his lips as soft, smooth fingers traced the head of the snake, which draped over his shoulder to curl around his upper bicep, with the rest of the body coiling down his back, Harry fidgeted uneasily, wondering what the other boy was thinking.

"Beautiful," Draco murmured, before placing a gentle kiss on Harry's shoulder, loosening the small ball of fear that had built in his gut during the drawn out silence.

Quickly divesting himself of his own shirt, Draco pressed their chests together, bare skin sliding against bare skin as he once again captured Harry's mouth in a heated snog. Gasping softly, Harry parted his lips and allowed the other boy to deepen the kiss as he grasped Draco's hips, digging in his fingers almost painfully, and drew an answering noise from Draco as he snaked one hand between them, exploring Harry with feather light caresses. Groaning when Draco unbuttoned his denims and slowly slid his zip down, Harry moved to reciprocate, but was just as swiftly rebuffed.

Frowning slightly, he moved away to ask the blond why he'd pushed his hand away, but stalled when a deft hand reached into his trousers and pulled his erection from his pants, then slid along the stiff length. And then all thought flew from Harry's mind when Draco quickly reciprocated on himself, quickly pulling himself from his trousers and pressed their bare cocks together, wrapped his hand firmly around both.

"_Oh_. Oh, Merlin," Harry breathed as Draco began to work their flesh, stroking it together with the little help of some conjured lube. Rocking his hips, he moaned as his cock slid along Draco's in a sensuous motion that made his blood rush explosively through his veins. "Not…not going…to last."

"Me neither," Draco rasped, gurgling when Harry's grip tightened painfully on his hips, pulling him closer as he thrust against that sinfully beautiful body. "Fuck. Harry…you're so…feel so good."

Harry wrapped his thigh around Draco's hip, forcing him to relinquish hold on his and Harry's erections, but never disrupted the undulation of their hips, which continued to rock in tandem. Slick flesh and rough material rubbed and scratched together in a delicious friction that should have been painful, but instead only added to the intense pleasure Coursing over through their bodies. A frantic need and heat overtook Harry, bursting like several nuclear explosions, leaving him scrambling for hold as his orgasm ripped through him.

"Draco…" He cried out hoarsely, tipping his head back into the garishly designed pillow, baring his throat to the Slytherin, who latched his teeth into it as he too came explosively against Harry, his name on his lips.

Panting as Draco whispered a quick spell that cleaned and righted their pants and trousers, Harry tensed, waiting for the inevitable moment that Draco would pull away and disappear as he done all the previous times. But instead, Draco merely laid back down on top of Harry, humming in gratification and tucked his face into the crook of Harry's neck when he wrapped a hesitant arm around the blond's waist. They laid there, basking in the afterglow, for who knows how long, exchanging soft, languid kisses intermittently, before Harry finally gave into the pull of his body and drifted off to sleep.

… … …

Harry jolted awake, slightly chilled and looked around the room, uncertain as to what woke him and why he was lying, shirtless, in Trelawney's tower, until it all came rushing back to the forefront of his mind. Frowning deeply, he noted that Draco was missing, and judging from the cool space next to him, had been gone for some time. Sitting up, he spied his shirt, neatly folded beside him, with a folded piece of parchment sitting innocuously on top. Picking it up, he slowly opened it, a sharp noise of discontent sounding in the back of his throat as he read the words - _Great game, Potter. ~ DM_.

Slumping against their makeshift bed, Harry stared at the paper almost incomprehensively, befuddled at the strange turn in his and Draco's relationship, if you could even call it that, wondering what to make of the words. A part of him enjoyed the illicit, hidden nature of his trysts – the fevered kisses, the game of cat and mouse, with them all but stalking each other across the school, dreaming up new ways to tease and tantalize each other. With the media in his face, it was nice to have a secret. But, yet another tiny part of him couldn't help feeling a bit wary, recalling the emptiness he had felt this summer with his fleeting relationships and, truthfully, the lack of fulfilment when it came to those casual encounters and feared jumping into something similar with Draco.

Not that he felt that way – quite the opposite really. Even the few encounters they'd had were fraught with more emotion than his longest relationship _ever_; and he and Draco had always been passionate about one another, even when they were rivals. But he had no clue what this meant to the other boy; was it just a game to amuse himself until the end of the school year, or was there some greater design?

Touching his still tingling lips thoughtfully, Harry wasn't sure which scenario he wanted it to be; did he want nothing but a sexy, fun game to ease the stress and tension of their NEWTs year, or did he want more? And what would he do, how would he feel if this was nothing to Draco? A brief stab of discontent stabbed him in the heart at that thought and Harry sighed, a shudder racking his body as he shoved his hand through his hair and then climbed off the bed, pulling on and straightening out his clothing before he ended the transfiguration spell, turning the bed back into that violently bight puff Trelawney favoured. Then pulling his invisibility cloak out of his pocket, he enlarged it and tossed it over his head.

The eighth-years didn't have a set curfew, being of age for the most part, but he wouldn't put it past Snape to be a git about it if he found Harry wandering the corridors.

Sighing quietly to himself, Harry left the room and walked down the hall, setting a path that would take him, not to his common room, but to the lake instead, needing some time to put his confused, scrambled thoughts in some semblance of order before heading for his bed. He just didn't know where he stood with Draco, or what he wanted, and until he had concrete answers to the questions rambling around his head, it would probably be better if he halted these little games for now, before one of them inadvertently got hurt.


	16. CAM - Rules Are Meant To Be Broken

**AN: **Good news! I finally have internet access and hopefully this will mean I will be able to update without relying on Whinsy. Thanks for your help during my downtime Whims! You rock and I must write something for you soon for all your help. :)

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**Rules are Meant to be Broken**

Draco stared blankly at his textbook, absently tapping his quill against a length of parchment, others strewn across his lone table in the library, and attempted, for what felt like the hundredth time, to rein in his wayward thoughts. He was trying to study for his end of the term exams, just one week hence before they broke for the winter holidays, but it was all for naught. His brain insisted wearing a never-ending track to a certain elusive Gryffindor, whom had been acting oddly for the past two weeks. Well, odd even for him - Harry was hardly the epitome of normal on the best of days, but lately, he had been weird even by his standards. And silent - uncomfortably, and unusually, silent.

Draco had tried to reassure himself that Harry's behaviour wasn't cause for concern; after all, the entirety of the eighth-year had been feeling pressed for time due to the normal deluge of term papers, projects and exams that marked the beginning of December. In fact, he had seen for himself that Granger had been acting like a crup with a bone when it came to her study schedules and making sure her victims…er…Harry and the Weasel, adhered strictly to them. It was, frankly, quite terrifying how the two men jumped to her tune with nothing more than a well-placed glower.

It made him wonder if he had feared the wrong person of the trio all these years. Harry had always been his main concern, but based on the wary looks her own friends shot her on occasion, he felt faintly relieved he managed to escape with only a bruised jaw in third year.

Not that he blamed Harry or the Weasel for quelling to her whims. Having been on the other end of Pansy's wrathful glare multiple times, he understood why they skirted Granger like a rampaging hippogriff when she launched one of her NEWTs rants. Imagining the combination of Pansy's fertile, devious mind, compounded with Granger's own scary, unparalleled intellect, he shuddered at what punishment such breeding grounds could produce if they had failed to capitulate. Females, on their own, were scary enough - intelligent females, bent on vengeance, were petrifying.

Not that he'd admit that to either Pansy or Granger's face - did he look like a Gryffindor? No, that was a secret he held close to his heart, and he dreaded the day they pooled their efforts and ganged up on all of them; that is, if he and Harry worked out as he planned. The world would never be safe from those equally brilliant, wily, bloody frightening minds.

But he digressed.

Despite knowing there was ample reasoning for Harry's current reticence, he had also noted, that for all that the raven had continued to watch Draco; he never went anywhere alone these days. Whether it was by default due to the time of year or by design remained to be seen. It was almost as if…well, almost as if Harry were purposefully avoiding him. And that thought unsettled him greatly. During the first week of silence, he hadn't put much by it, knowing that it wasn't uncommon for several days to pass between their encounters and he believed Harry to be plotting his next move. But as the second week closed, he'd begun to worry that he had committed some unknown faux pas the last time they'd played.

Although just what, he couldn't begin to fathom.

True, they had been a bit rougher and desperate this time around, as one would expect after spending bloody _hours_ in anticipation. Draco couldn't hold back his excitement, and hadn't really been concerned with finesse once he'd finally landed his prey; as it were, it had taken everything he had not to simply rip Harry's clothing from his body. But rather than putting him off, the hurried actions only seemed to enflame Harry at the time and there had been plentiful evidence that he had been similarly worked up by their game. He'd had bruises on his hips for nearly a week as proof.

Not that he'd minded. He could have easily healed them had he wanted. It was a simple charm, and one he'd used judiciously in the past. But there had been something primitively satisfying in knowing that Harry had lost enough of his fine-tuned control to mark him.

Of course, it could have been what happened after…

He hadn't intended to stick around that night, worried that if he gave into the need to cuddle with the Gryffindor, it would place far too much of his heart on display. He had heard some rumours this summer, that spoke of Harry's activities and how the relationships, if they could be called that, had lasted mere weeks. And he hadn't wanted to scare Harry off by appearing too needy. But he couldn't help it - Harry had looked so delicious lying there, flushed and rumpled, those bright green eyes filled with sleepy pleasure that he couldn't make himself leave. He had needed just a bit more time with the intoxicating raven and only left once he was certain that Harry was sleeping soundly.

Shaking off his troubled and unhelpful thoughts, Draco swiped at the back of his neck impatiently, rubbing the nape to shunt away the bug or string that had been tickling him for the past minute; a feather-light touch that reminded him all too well of Harry's caresses, sending a small shudder down his spine. Like he needed any other reminders when his brain was all too willing to play the scenes back to him in an endless looping stream. Looking over his shoulder, he frowned when he met with empty space and huffed, and turned back to attempt focusing on his essay once again.

And failed miserably, his thoughts stubbornly returning to Harry.

Perhaps he shouldn't have left.

After all, he knew it irritated him to wake up and find an empty bed when he very well knew that it had been filled when he'd fallen asleep. Leaving, in a misguided sense of self-preservation, likely hadn't been his wisest move, but waking up to an uncomfortable Harry, who wouldn't meet his eyes and silently wondered why Draco was still there, would have broke him. He knew that many people considered him to be cool, calm and unflappable - an ice prince he'd heard whispered on occasion - but that was far from the case. He just knew how to hide his emotions better.

Running a hand over his hair, he sighed inaudibly, and froze when he felt what he thought was a warm puff of air near his cheek. Licking his lips, Draco closed his eyes and focused on that warm, damp breath as it traced a path over his jaw, making his own breathing hitch almost painfully as he clenched his hands into loose fists and another slow, luscious shiver tripped over his spine.

"Harry?" he breathed softly, his stomach swirling when he heard what he thought was a low laugh, but then shook his head in disgust, shrugging the sensation off when his phantom never materialized. Huffing in annoyance at his behaviour, Draco stood stiffly and stalked towards the back of the library, figuring his time was better spent seeking the much needed book to finish his paper than wasting his time contemplating the Gryffindor mentality.

"Merlin, now I'm imagining things," he muttered under his breath as he found the appropriate aisle and started down it. "Brilliant."

Slipping into a dark corner, Draco studied the row of books, almost vainly hoping that the tome he sought would still be there and some enterprising Ravenclaw hadn't already confiscated it in their mad dash to liberate anything of worth for the remainder of the term. His topic was esoteric, only discussed amongst those who were seriously pursuing a potions mastery, but that rarely meant a thing to Ravenclaws - they grabbed anything that even remotely resembled interesting reading and hoarded the books like squirrels planning for a long, hard winter.

Tracing his fingers along the spines, Draco let out a small cry of triumph when he came across the desired text and swiftly pulled it from the shelves with a quick look around, almost as if he expected a rabid badger to come scurrying out of the woodwork and filch his treasure if left unguarded. Laughing lightly at his actions, he shook his head and focused on the book, and was opening it when the air around him shifted, charging with an almost electric hum as he realized he was no longer alone.

Stilling almost instantaneously, he swallowed and glanced through his lashes, excitement surging through his body as he noted the subtle shimmer of a disillusionment or concealment charm in the air next to him - like that of an invisibility cloak. And there was only one student he knew that had one of those. Dipping his head to hide the smirk blooming on his face, Draco inhaled deeply, his head spinning as the scent of apples and rain and that elusive spice that screamed '_Harry_' filled his nose .

He easily got lost in that fragrance.

Breath and heart rate accelerating, Draco blindly flipped through the pages, all too aware of the presence at his side, a part of him miffed it had been so long and the other breathless with anticipation. He wasn't certain what game the Gryffindor was playing, but he hoped he got to it soon. Which the minx happily obliged in the next breath.

Letting out a low moan when a warm, hard body pressed into his back, Draco closed his eyes and pressed back in welcome, tilting his head just the slightest when arms wrapped around his waist and lips ghosted against the side of his neck, nipping at the fluttering pulse at its base. Flushing hotly, Draco let out a surprised little noise when hands slid up over his chest and pinched his nipples lightly before he was unceremoniously shoved deeper into the shelf in front of him.

"Bastard," he huffed, snorting when all he got was a quiet chuckle for his censure and a renewal of those teasing caresses.

"You know you like it," Harry husked, teasing his lips against the shell of his ear, bringing with him that intoxicating blend of smells that made his head swim and left him wanting. Biting the inside of his cheek as a hard length pressed against his arse, Draco scrabbled at the shelving for purchase, the tome sliding from nerveless fingers and dropping unchecked to the floor in the process. "Just admit it."

"Yes," he whispered, jolting as another chuckle filled his ear, and he coloured a little at the noises that tumbled out of the back of his throat as Harry sunk his teeth into the lobe and unhurriedly slid his hands over Draco's chest and down his abdominals, relentlessly trekking for something lower.

"Knew it; dirty, little Slytherin," Harry crowed quietly, teasing his lips down the side of his jaw, dispersing warm, wet kisses and nips of blunt, white teeth as his hands came to a rest on his waistband, drawing out another moan past Draco's lips. "Makes me wonder what you'd be like bound to my bed, writhing, wanton, and helpless beneath my every touch. Bet you'd look spectacular, all flushed and hard, waiting for my next move."

"Fuck," Draco muttered, squirming against that invisible body and prayed that no one heard him and came looking; the last thing he needed was curious, prying eyes noticing him pinned to the shelves by an invisible assailant, hard and panting instead of reading up on potions as he told his friends.

"We could do that," Harry murmured agreeably, sliding his hands down over his thighs, and then back up, allowing his fingers to feather over his cock on the way up, setting his nerves aflame. "But perhaps… not here. And I do want you _here _and_ now_."

Draco nearly choked on his own saliva; his body instantly heating at those words and his cock perked up with more than a healthy interest, making the boy behind him groan heartily when he felt Draco's prick stiffen further. Smirking mischievously, Draco pressed his arse back into the cradle of Harry's hips and gave a deliberate roll, relishing the breathy gasp against his ear for a moment before hands sharply spun and pressed him back into the shelves, leaving him scrabbling blindly. Searching it for a telltale shimmer, Draco grumbled when he couldn't find the elusive lion.

"A disillusionment charm, Harry? Not very sporting of you. Weren't those against the rules?"

"Rules are meant to be broken," Harry smirked, shimmering into existence as he pressed back into his body, bringing a low strangled sound to his lips as their hips ground together. "Besides, those were _your_ rules, _not_ _mine_."

Draco barely managed another huff of breath as Harry captured his mouth, teasing his bottom lip with a swipe of his tongue, enticing Draco to part his lips. Opening his mouth to the invasion, he tried to keep his moans low and subdued as talented hands tracked relentlessly over his body, teasing and taunting, enticing, making heart pulse, his breath to catch and the blood in his veins to rush and turn molten. Sliding a hand into thick, dark locks, he tugged, whimpering as Harry pulled away to blaze a fiery path down his throat, nipping and sucking greedily at the skin, whispering hotly.

"Unless you want to cause a scene beautiful, I recommend raising a Muffliato and a Notice-Me-Not. Otherwise, anyone venturing in this section will get a bit more _education_ that they bargained for…"

Letting out a groan so low it could be mistaken for a breath, Draco pulled out his wand and quickly erected the suggested wards, unaware of the startled eyes that were now trapped within their little bubble. Dropping his wand carelessly to the floor, Draco shoved his hands back into that wild thatch of curls and inhaled sharply when Harry reciprocated in kind, tugging his head back and attaching his lips to Draco's throat once more, feasting on it so voraciously, he was certain there would be a lovely string of red and purple marks come morning. Humming in pleasure, he tore the Gryffindor away and dove into his warm, taunting mouth, revelling in the sweet taste of chocolate, and something fruity, as their tongues clashed and battled for dominance.

Grunting with frustration when Harry pulled away, Draco watched through half-lidded eyes as the other boy's gaze skimmed over him, licking his lips salaciously, obviously more than happy with what he was seeing. And then inhaling sharply when Harry's eyes, dark with lust, flicked up and smirked, Draco barely had time to wonder what was going through that delightfully devious mind when Harry rolled his hips in a slow, maddening circle, taking his breath away.

"You want to know what I've been wondering the past few weeks?" Harry murmured, rubbing his stubble along Draco's cheek as he traced a finger down his chest and over his abdominals, sending a frisson of electricity jolting through his body. Harry pressed a tiny kiss to his ear and whispered in a low, sexy rasp as his finger dipped lower, tracing along the ridge of his erection. "I want to know how you taste. I'll just bet that you taste _fucking amazing _and I've been _dying_ to have that beautiful cock on my tongue. May I taste you?"

Draco whimpered at the dirty, descriptive words, spoken in a tone that had him panting with desire and his cock stiffening. _Fuck, yes he could taste him_. What the fuck kind of inane question was that? Not fully trusting his voice, Draco nodded, jolting again when a wicked laugh filled his ear just before Harry kissed him soundly and then slowly slid down his body, his hands following in his wake.

"Fuck," he cursed, his voice grew thready as he stared into gleaming green eyes, and he gulped helplessly when Harry cupped his hips, and holding his gaze, leaned in to blow a hot, damp breath over his erection. Biting his lower lip to quell a moan, Draco jerked his hips when warm air penetrated the thin linen, and desperately fought to keep his eyes from sliding shut at the sensation. He didn't want to miss what Harry did next.

"Dirty, little Gryffindor," he accused, tossing the rejoinder back at the boy in front of him and watched in avid anticipation as Harry flicked the button on his trousers, then leisurely slid the zip down. Harry flicked his eyes to the emerging skin and arched a brow, his eyes darkening when he noted that Draco hadn't bothered with pants that day. Draco trembled when Harry's heated gaze flicked back up and met his, and then licking his lips hungrily, the Gryffindor impatiently yanked Draco's trousers over his hips; and Draco had to look away lest he came from just that look alone. "Should have known you'd be a closet exhibitionist."

"You have no idea," Harry leered wickedly, his dark, enigmatic smirk making Draco narrow his eyes slightly, and wonder yet again just what the other boy had gotten up to over his summer abroad. But the thought quickly melted away under the swift, smooth assault of a surprisingly talented tongue.

Throwing his head back, Draco gripped the shelf behind him, his knuckles blanching as he scrabbled for hold and he groaned deeply as Harry licked a long, hot stripe up his shaft. Panting softly as Harry's tongue continued to torment him with slow, delicious licks, he unconsciously spread his feet further apart, both for balance, and better access, and cried out when a hand wrapped around the base of his cock, gently squeezing. Draco reached down with one hand and buried his fingers in thick, ebony locks, whimpering when Harry pulled away to talk to him in a low, seductive murmur.

"Do you have any idea how many times I've seen you sitting all prim and proper at that table, oblivious to the fucking gorgeous picture you make, and wanted to walk over, pull you up from your chair, and press you back first into it?" Harry breathed, allowing his hot breath wash over his cock, making it jump to command - quite literally. "Or better yet - fall at your feet just like this, and yank your trousers and pants down to your ankles, and take this beautiful cock into my mouth, suckling and licking you until you came down my throat."

"Salazar," Draco cursed breathily, his vision spotting when Harry's hand began to steadily pump his erection, slicking his pre-cum and Harry's saliva along the length, the brunet's words fuelling the inferno raging just under his skin, surging through his veins in a crackling stream. Shaking his head jerkily, Draco couldn't help praying that Harry fulfilled that vision at some point.

"Every day since the start of term," Harry husked, pausing to lick another long, wet strip up Draco's cock, humming in pleasure as it lapped the crown and then he sucked the head into his mouth, swirling his tongue over it before pulling off. Fucking hell, he was going to drive Draco mental. When the hell did he get so damned chatty? Harry chuckled at his little growl of dissatisfaction, and continued to tease him with his words nonetheless.

"Bet you didn't notice, did you? I'd sit in my corner, disillusioned and watch you, thinking of how easy it would be to go over and take you as deep as I could into my mouth; speculating on how long it would take before you to let go of your inhibitions and fucked it. I was going to attempt that tonight, but you left the table before I could implement my plan. But this works too."

Draco's breath hitched as Harry wrapped his lips around the head of his prick and sucked languorously, his bright green gaze glowing as he watched Draco with heavy-lidded eyes. Lust slammed through him as his eyes fluttered, and then slid shut fully as he tangled his fingers deeper into ebon strands, and frantically fought against the urge to drag that talented mouth closer, deeper. He was thankful now that Harry had told him to erect those spells; he could only begin to imagine what he looked like, pressed to the shelves, cock hanging out and Harry Potter sucking on it like it was his favourite lolly.

That visual would have been enough to make him come if it weren't for the strategically placed fingers squeezing the base of said cock.

Breathing harshly when Harry suddenly hummed, Draco cried out incoherently and tightened his grip in Harry's hair, his hips bucking just ever so slightly before he caught himself, and it took all his thinly reined control to keep from thrusting carelessly in that warm, wet cavern. He nearly came in that moment, but was saved once again as Harry pulled away to place soft, fervent nips and kisses along the insides of his thighs as he whispered in awe.

"Look at you; such a pretty picture you make - cheeks sweetly flushed, pink lips, swollen and parted, just begging for a kiss, your hair falling dishevelled and damp around your face - exquisite."

Gasping when that talented, taunting mouth returned full force, Draco again bucked his hips, pushing his erection deeper between those delectable, cherry red lips, relishing in the sweet suction and the tantalizing swipes of tongue, and just barely managed not to plunge his cock down Harry's waiting throat. He had endlessly fantasised about fucking that mouth, just as Harry had suggested earlier, shoving himself in so deep that the Golden Boy choked on it; but he held off now, uncertain as to how Harry would take his aggressiveness.

At least until the little prat taunted him.

"Come on, Malfoy," that husky voice teased, breaking through the haze of pleasure clouding his mind, his last name garnering his displeasure until he caught the challenge glinting in verdant eyes. The heat burning in their depths, pushed his own temperature sky high, and ignited the pool of lust that had built in his gut as his lion-snake smirked at him, slyly taunting. "Fuck my mouth. You know you want to…or haven't you the bollocks to see it through?"

Growling at the blatant challenge, Draco shoved both hands into the raven's hair, curling the silky strands tightly in his fingers and thrust into that jeering mouth impatiently, his breath growing rough and ragged as he fucked it with abandonment, his movements growing jerkier with every plunge. Pumping helplessly, Draco threw his head back and keened, a low, vicious, drawn out growl that rumbled through his chest, as his thrusts grew shallow and erratic and his orgasm ripped through his body, leaving him spent and tingling. Pouring down Harry's throat, he cried out as stars burst across his vision and then collapsed against the shelves a winded, boneless, wrecked heap.

Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes when he felt a familiar prickling of magic wash over him and smiled weakly as the cleaning charm cleared away all evidence of their encounter before Harry gently tucked him in and deftly closed his trousers. Watching as Harry winced and stood, Draco panicked minutely, thinking the other boy intended to slip away as he had many times before.

"Wait, what about you…" he rasped, his voice hoarse, and then trailed off when Harry merely smiled and leaned against him. Purring happily at his armful of lazy, sated Gryffindor, Draco wrapped his arms firmly around the other boy's back and hummed in contentment as soft lips covered his, drawing him into a sweet, languid kiss that thrilled him to his toes.

"Too late," Harry whispered against his lips, slipping his tongue between them and stroking his as he deepened the kiss, bringing their mingled tastes with it.

Draco gave into the brunet's skilful ministrations, reluctant to let the moment end and forgot his momentary panic altogether as hands ran over rumpled clothing and tangled into damp, matted hair. Sliding his hands to cup Harry's jaw, he revelled in the feel and taste of the other boy, a warm glow filling him as Harry returned the soft, affectionate caresses, and Draco couldn't help the flicker of hope that sparked inside his chest that finally, _finally_ he might have this boy for his own.

He didn't think he would _ever_ get enough of Harry.

Slowly Harry pulled away, a slight flush colouring his cheeks as he stared into Draco's eyes, his earlier confession catching up with them. Draco smirked, his own cheeks heating at the implication - Harry had already come merely from watching his enjoyment.

"Watching you come has to be the hottest, sexiest thing I have ever seen," Harry confessed softly, his blush deepening at Draco's pleased grin. Shrugging slightly, he averted his gaze and grinned a bit ruefully as he continued. "I couldn't help myself."

Draco smiled and kept his comments to himself, not wanting to embarrass his… well he didn't know exactly what Harry was quite yet, but he didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable. Swallowing thickly as a bright gaze studied his face thoughtfully, Draco held Harry's look unflinchingly as the other boy seemed to search it, looking for something he couldn't put words to. The solemn stare made him slightly nervous, but Draco simply returned it, his shields down for once. And that seemed to be the best reaction, as Harry nodded and smiled that shy, sweet smile that always made Draco's heart flutter, and then kissed him gently on the lips.

All was right in the world.

"Just thought you needed a bit of a stress reliever; you know, to clear your head and all that," Harry teased lightly, placing another lingering kiss against Draco's mouth before pulling away to nuzzle his cheek fondly. "You'd better get back to work; that essay is due tomorrow. Oh, and top that, Malfoy."

Grinning stupidly when Harry winked and walked away, Draco shook his head and dispelled the charms he'd placed around them, imagining the smug grin now gracing the Gryffindor's face. Touching his lips, remembering those sweet kisses, he rolling his eyes at his own sappy behaviour and stooped, picking up the book he'd originally came for and walked out of the shelves, his mind surprisingly clear.

Who knew that a dose of Gryffindor was all that one needed to combat a faulty concentration?


	17. CAM - Revenge is Sweet

**AN:** My apologies for taking so long in getting this part up. I had difficulties writing it for a couple reasons. One, while I'm trying to keep this a sexy and fun series of drabbles, I also want to start changing the tone a bit, taking it away from just a game of one-upmanship to hinting at becoming something deeper. And two, I did a similar scene in my rather epically long one-shot **They That Love Beyond the World** and I was trying to change this one so it wouldn't sound exactly like that scene. It shouldn't take as long for the next part as I have it half written due to my constant frustration with this drabble

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**Revenge is Sweet**

Harry surreptitiously glanced up and down the hall, feeling the ever constant weight of eyes burning into the back of his neck; a near palpable press that left him breathless and wanting, chasing a heady trill down his spine. It ignited that sweet, fiery rush that _he_ called '_Draco_', and others called _desire_, sending it careening through his veins as he imagined brilliant, grey eyes covetously tracing over his body.

He'd know this feeling anywhere, had spent weeks honing his instincts where a certain blond was concerned until he could almost pinpoint where he was in relation to Harry; and one he had been anticipating since their recent separation. Three weeks of limited contact, and that only through notes (no matter how tantalising), had been nerve wracking, despite those same said notes being filled with sweet, sinfully voiced promises of 'revenge' for his stunt in the library.

Promises that had left him aching deep into the night, grateful to that benevolent deity, who sometimes smiled down upon him, did so again, allowing him the privacy of his own room since he'd spent the holidays with Andromeda. He wasn't quite up to explaining to Ron just why he had awakened, hard, hot, and panting Draco's name on numerous occasions; nor his need to wank after sex-drenched dreams of his supposed nemesis.

Dreams that were only natural given the circumstances.

He and Draco hadn't been able to meet prior to their leaving for the Yule holidays, both having been sucked into the end of the term madness, which included papers, projects, exams and a nosy, meddlesome friend that would remain nameless, but whose name started with Herm. One that threatened poor, hapless boys with pain and endless nagging had they not given into said beast's incessant demands of study time. Not that he would know anything about that.

But he digressed.

Neither of them had the chance to breathe, let alone a chance to ambush…erm… _talk_ to one another. And then it had been time to pack and leave. In the never ending excitement and chatter of the coming holidays, his well-meaning, but annoying friends had managed to keep him too busy to quietly slip away for one last rendezvous, much to his immense aggravation.

Harry wished he could say that Christmas with the Weasleys, Andromeda and Teddy had been just what he needed to distract his mind from the wickedly gorgeous Slytherin, but it was quite the opposite. In fact, all of the togetherness, and being surrounded by glowingly happy couples only cemented his discontent and made him realise just how much Draco had crept under his skin and taken up permanent residency in his heart. He had actually found himself missing the git; and not just because of the lack of sexual encounters, no matter how fantastic.

He missed his voice, and those nuggets of softness reflected in storm-coloured eyes on the rare occasion.

And it surprised him.

Harry wasn't quite sure when this had all ceased to be a game to him, or exactly when his attraction had turned into more, but it had taken a strong hold in him and he couldn't seem to break free. That he was even thinking of pursuing this beyond a momentary fling after everything that had happened between them in the past was… well, a bit mental really.

Then again, when had he ever been what others would call 'normal'?

And it left him feeling a bit wary as well; as he still wasn't certain that this was more than a sexy game to the blond despite their recent encounter.

But stuck he was and he might as well give into the pull and see just where it would lead. He'd always been one to follow his heart, sometimes blindly, and he wasn't about to stop now despite the precarious position this left him in.

When he'd returned, and saw Draco sitting across the room, candlelight playing in his hair, turning it into fine, spun gold, and it had taken every fibre of his being to resist the urge to stalk over and yank the beautiful boy into a heated snog.

Somehow he'd managed it, however. Barely.

Not that it fooled Draco in the least, as he had looked up at precisely that moment, smirking when silver and green clashed, those argent flames brightening and glowing with hunger as they tracked over Harry's body. Slowly licking his lips, Draco flicked his eyes up and pinned Harry in place with the sheer heat of his gaze, his pale pink lips glistening invitingly in the low light.

Harry had barely quelled the tremble that threatened to overwhelm him, his cheeks and body flushing hotly under that predatory gaze; and a light sheen of perspiration broke across his neck and brow as he'd remembered soft, insistent hands, lips, and teeth on his body. Quaking under that knowing smile, Harry finally tore his gaze away and shakily sunk into his seat, so completely turned on he could barely breathe. Exhaling explosively, Harry's mind reeled, oblivious to the knowing looks passing between his friends as his eyes, and thoughts, were on one person; and one person alone.

_Draco._

The name reverberated through his mind, bringing with it the breathless feeling he got whenever he was in the other boy's presence, leaving him hot, weak and wanting.

That had been three days ago, and Draco had yet to make his move despite the bright promise in grey eyes as he watched Harry's every move. And Harry couldn't help wondering anew if this was all a game to the Slytherin and he'd gotten bored now that he had what he wanted – Harry's complete, and obsessive, attention. The thought sent a pang through his heart, leaving him breathless for an entirely different reason as he shook off those disturbing thoughts and continued down the hall towards the kitchens for a snack. An excuse he used to leave the common room before he started climbing the walls – especially as Draco hadn't been present.

Sighing quietly at his obsessive train of thought, Harry ran a weary hand through his hair as he passed the guest suites; this was getting to be worse than his sixth year, when he had followed Draco everywhere, convinced that the other boy was up to no good. (Which he had been. That would teach Ron and Hermione for not listening to his intuition.) Only this time, his thoughts took a very different bent – they were far more interested in pale skin splayed across dark red sheets and trembling beneath his every touch.

Merlin, he was going to drive himself mental.

Rounding the corner, Harry headed for the staircase that would take him to the bottom floor when a hand wrapped around his wrist and dragged him against a firm chest, strong arms wrapping him in a firm embrace. He struggled against the constricting clasp momentarily, still leery about being caught from behind, but ceased when the scent of citrus and cedar teased his nose, making him relax into the body behind him. Humming under his breath when soft lips brushed across the shell of his ear, Harry's gut jolted as a familiar voice drawled in his ear.

"Hello, Harry," Draco murmured, his tongue tracing the curve of his ear before latching his teeth into Harry's lobe, eliciting a soft moan that spilled over Harry's lips. "I was wondering when you'd finally get up the nerve to wander my way."

Harry inhaled sharply, Draco's conspicuous absences suddenly gelling in his mind – he had been waiting on _Harry_ to come to _him._ But Harry, brooding over Draco's true intentions, had been blind to the obvious tactic and had remained cooped up in his room, sulking at the blond's truancy. He suddenly felt incredibly stupid for his petty actions and thoughts – after all, they had never made their trysts public and how would Draco have made his move when Harry hadn't made himself available?

In fact, they had taken great pains to keep their 'meetings' under wraps. And Draco couldn't know that Harry had recently been rethinking the clandestine nature of their relationship. Sometimes, he really just wanted to smack himself.

"I was just going for a snack," he whispered huskily, making a small strangled sound as lips traced the line of his throat, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Liar," Draco accused without heat, nipping the curve of his neck in remonstration. Harry's breathing hitched, and he slid his hands down, over Draco's thighs and gripped, his fingers tightening into firm flesh as the other boy continued his greedy assault on his neck. "You know that was only an excuse. You were finally going stir crazy. Admit it."

"_Yes_," he rasped, although he wasn't sure if he was answering Draco's question or encouraging more of those drugging kisses; his breaths grew shallow and heat built in his groin as Draco slid his hands over his body, fanning the flames burning just under the surface. Merlin, this man drove him mad.

"Gyffindors," Draco clucked mockingly, pressing his face into Harry's neck, his hands and lips stilling until he simply held Harry within the circle of his arms, breathing him in it seemed. "We all know your lot goes mental unless they're running about, doing something."

Harry merely grunted at Draco's observation and sunk further into Draco's body, moulding his back to the other man's front and tipped his own head until his nose was buried into fresh-scented hair, breathing in the essence of Draco as well. How he had missed this when he was gone. Draco's arms tightened around him, and Harry revelled anew in that rarely shown tenderness he'd been thinking of earlier, which is likely why he blurted out his thoughts before he could stop them.

"I missed you," Harry murmured, flushing in mortification when lips smirked against his neck.

"Did you?" Draco asked softly; his breath warm and moist against Harry's neck, sending a tiny shiver tripping down his spine, the words echoing in his head. Harry stiffened, thinking he detected a note of amusement in the tone, and made to pull away, but Draco tightened his grip again, and held him in place. Pressing a soft kiss to Harry's pulse, Draco murmured against the skin, "I missed you too."

Harry smiled, and breathed a sigh of relief, his heart fluttering madly, elated at the small confession. He leaned back, breath snagging when he felt ample evidence that at least one part of Draco's anatomy had definitely missed Harry. Shifting his hips sinuously, he chuckled when Draco cursed and a low moan resonated deep within Draco's breast, rumbling against his ear. One echoed by Harry when Draco reciprocated in kind, grinding his erection into Harry's arse.

"Merlin," Harry muttered, rolling his hips again in response, and shivered when hands ghosted over his rapidly filling flesh just before Draco gripped his hips, halting their motion with a firm warning squeeze.

"Draco will do," Draco quipped lightly, making Harry huff in mock indignation as the boy behind him pulled away and took his hand, tugging him away from the stairs and back down the hall towards the guest suites. "Come with me."

Harry raised his brows, surprised by the change in their routine, but followed Draco silently, his heart picking up in pace when Draco stopped before one of the suites, one with an elaborate 'M' engraved into the door. It would figure that the Malfoys would have a permanent guest suite within the school – they were just that pretentious.

Barely quelling a snort, Harry shunted aside any extraneous thoughts as Draco pulled him into the room. Who was he to complain about the suite when it led to the possibility of more than a few rushed minutes with the object of his fascination and affection? It was hypocritical to be upset with these things when he fully intended to take advantage of this fortuitous, if slightly unfair, benefit.

Blinking rapidly as Draco closed the door behind them, Harry stilled as darkness descended, and allowed his eyes time to adjust to the sudden blackout, especially when Draco dropped his hand and moved further into the room, lighting several candles along the way. Swiping his clammy hands over his trousers, Harry watched the blond, his breathing ragged as he realised that their relationship had taken a pivotal turn once they had entered the room, becoming more than just a few random, hurried gropes and snogs; and he couldn't help feeling slightly overwhelmed by the turn of events.

A feeling that sharpened, almost strangling him, as Draco faced him and their eyes met, clashed and clung for several long, breathless minutes before the Slytherin slowly crossed the room to stand before Harry.

Licking suddenly parched lips, Harry held that silver gaze as Draco reached out, and fingers grazing his jaw, tipped Harry's chin at an angle and then dipped his head, bringing their lips together. Harry's eyes slid shut as warm, soft lips brushed over his, a touch so light and ephemeral, it was as if they weren't there; like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. Yet it had the power to set his soul on fire. Gasping softly as Draco pulled back just a hairbreadth, Harry trembled when their noses bumped, and their breaths mingled, as he stood there completely dumbstruck for a fleeting, silent second before chasing those silky lips, and sinking into them with a low groan.

Wrapping his arms around Draco's neck, Harry clung to the other boy as his head spun madly, their lips sliding and moulding against each other as they shared those sweet kisses that left him completely lost. Draco made a soft noise in the back of his throat as he gently cupped Harry's jaw, bringing him even closer as the blond slowly walked them towards the plush bed behind him, stopping only when his knees hit the mattress.

Twining his arms around Harry's back, Draco swung Harry around, reversing their positions before gently toppling Harry onto the bed. Panting softly, Harry held that warm gaze as he slowly pulled himself onto the bed, kicking off his shoes as he went, and made his way up it until he was lying against the pillows. Swallowing thickly, his throat convulsed as he watched the other boy, only a hint of trepidation glimmering in his eyes as Draco sank onto the edge of the mattress, and snapped his fingers as he too kicked off his shoes.

"What – what's that for?" Harry gulped as a tray of what appeared to be chocolate mousse and a small dish of whipped cream popped up next to the bed.

"I'm feeling a mite…peckish myself, and was craving something sweet," Draco replied, a delightfully devious smile spreading across his face as he crawled towards Harry.

"_Oh_," Harry breathed, his mind flitting to one of those bloody teasing notes from Christmas break, in which Draco had waxed poetic about his beloved chocolate, and how Harry would make the perfect canvas for his favourite dessert.

He had nearly wanked himself raw over that image. And now it seemed as if he were going to be gifted with his favourite fantasy. _Bloody hell_.

Harry watched in rapt fascination as Draco slunk up his body and straddled his hips, and then, placing one hand on each side of his torso, pressed Harry deeper into the bed as he studied his quarry in a predatory light. Breathing hitching, Harry moaned when Draco leaned down and captured his lips, his tongue sliding over Harry's bottom lip, enticing him to part them. Gripping Draco's hips, Harry rocked his up into Draco's, a slightly impatient roll quickly quelled by Draco's clamped thighs as the blond continued to brush their lips together, lavishing Harry in honeyed kisses that sent his body thrumming.

Whimpering softly at those unhurried, teasing caresses, Harry tilted his head and opened his mouth to the assault, groaning and pulling the other boy closer when a velvet tongue dipped between his lips and curled around his, tangling in a dance as old as time. Curling his fingers into fine, golden tresses, Harry lost himself in the wonder of Draco's mouth, completely undone by the sheer passion, and something he couldn't quite identify, exploding between them, leaving his nerves feeling as if they were made of electricity.

"Draco…" he whispered into the other boy's mouth, groaning when that insistent tongue continued to tease and tantalise, leaving him breathless and burning from the inside out.

Unlike their previous heated kisses, this one was slow seduction personified – soft, tender; every brush of Draco's tongue, lips, and teeth a titillating promise of what was to come. It was fire and light; luscious and heady; and as decadent as the richest, darkest chocolate. It left Harry aching, breathless, and scrambling to ground himself, only to be met with yet more intoxicating heat. It was mind blowing and life changing.

And lasted far too short a time for Harry's tastes.

Gasping when Draco pulled away, Harry grumbled in discontent until scalding lips latched onto his neck and sucked at his pulse, drawing a mewl of approval as long, tapered fingers plucked at his shirt, deftly undoing the buttons; and splaying the ends wide, Draco stripped the shirt from his body altogether. Harry watched in a daze as Draco pulled away and stared at him with soft, lust-filled eyes, his hands trailing over his chest, smiling devilishly as he reached the waistband of his trousers, and slowly undid the button and zip.

"Tease," Harry hissed, taking a small hiccuping breath as Draco slid his trousers over hips and legs, tossing them to the side with wicked chuckle.

"Takes one to know one," Draco taunted, reaching over for the mousse with one hand as he climbed back up Harry's body.

"Prat," Harry huffed, smiling when he swore he heard the other boy whisper almost inaudibly, '_your prat_'.

Harry watched in breathy anticipation as Draco dipped one finger into the sweet confection and brought it to his lips, giving it a slow, sinful lick before sucking it fully into his mouth. He groaned, his cheeks heating, as Draco's lashes fluttered shut in pure enjoyment, and it was all too tempting to toss the dish aside and drag that pretty pink mouth to his for a taste; but he held off as he was far more interested in what the other boy intended to do with his treat.

Licking his lips, Harry gulped when Draco removed his finger with an audible pop and raised his lids half mast to study Harry with a heat so intense, Harry swore his skin would scorch and blister in its wake. To be on the other end of that fiery stare – he simply had no words. Smiling smugly, Draco dipped his finger into the chocolate again, and scooped out a fair portion and then carefully set the remaining aside, lowering his hand to Harry's waiting chest.

The cold substance against his hot skin had Harry hissing and clenching at the comforter, making him dig his heels into the bed to keep from levitating off of it as Draco swirled the pudding onto his skin, paying particular attention to his nipples and abs, only dipping back into the bowl as necessary. Harry watched the blond demon through his lashes, biting at his lower lip harshly when fingers ran over a particularly sensitive area, trying to keep from crying out and alerting Draco of just how desperately turned on he was.

An effort that failed miserably judging by the sly smile touching said demon's lips. One that deepened when Draco had decided he had teased Harry enough and set about cleaning off his creation.

Harry moaned as Draco's tongue curled around his nipple, lapping up the chocolate with a firm, delicious swipe, eliciting a frisson of desire that pooled in his groin. He gasped, squirming under Draco's tongue to ease the ache building inside him with those tiny, yet ineffectual movements; and he couldn't help but whimper when blunt teeth caught and scraped over his skin, teasing it with a sharp nip before Draco released it and drew back with a smug smirk.

_Bloody hell_, that felt _fantastic_.

Watching his tormentor through hooded eyes, Harry couldn't help squirming again as Draco continued his maddening quest to drive Harry mental with nothing but his tongue and teeth. Groaning when that velvet tongue swirled around and then dipped into his navel, Harry reached up and sunk his hands into fine, silky blond strands, clenching them _and_ his eyes tightly as he arched, seeking more; and then tightened his grip as Draco tongue slid lower, tracing the edge of his pants.

_Sweet Circe_. His body was on fire.

Protesting when Draco lifted his head, Harry opened his eyes, not realising until then that he had clenched them shut, and stared deeply into Draco's face; sweat dotted cheeks flushed to a near scarlet, framing eyes that had grown into a flickering inferno of passion and need. Wetting his lips, Harry's lashes trembled under that gaze and then closed fully when Draco dipped his head and placed a scorching kiss against his lips before scrambling off the bed much to Harry's dismay.

Not that he had to wait long for Draco's next actions, which shot a jolt of pure, unadulterated lust through his veins.

Draco stood at the edge of the bed, glazed eyes raking over Harry's form as he quickly divested himself of his shirt and trousers, and then, too far gone in his lust for finesse, dove back onto Harry. With teeth and tongue, Draco set about licking and sucking and scraping the remnants of mousse, making Harry arch and writhe and whimper mindlessly as Draco travelled up his torso.

Not to be outdone by the Slytherin, Harry waited until until Draco had reached his mouth, sinking into it with hot, voracious kiss, and then when the blond was fully distracted, wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, and quickly reversed their positions. Giving the stunned blond an impish grin, Harry reached for the whipped cream, more than ready for his chance at dessert.

Harry swiped a good amount of cream over Draco's sweat-kissed skin, all that perfect, paleness taking on an almost pearly sheen in the low, flickering light, making Harry's mouth water as he traced sinew and flesh. Dipping his head, he gave a long, slow lick starting with Draco's trembling abs, leading up to the light, almost dusty pink nipples that beckoned, and almost seemed to beg for attention. Closing his mouth around it, he sucked and nibbled, delighting in how Draco arched and squirmed into his touch and the small, kittenish noises that spilled over slightly parted lips.

"Delicious," he whispered, turning his attention to the other, completely lost in the heady scent of sugar, sweat and '_Draco_,' and slightly smug at turning the Slytherin's game against him.

"Harry," Draco murmured, sliding his fingers through Harry's hair, breath hitching as Harry continued to tease and torment his flesh with soft kisses, light nips and the languid glide of tongue, Harry often eschewing the sweet confection for the taste of Draco's bare skin. It was like nothing he could ever describe – musky, salty, with just a hint of natural sweetness lying beneath the two stronger tastes.

It was ambrosia.

Groaning under his breath as Draco's hips moved fluidly against his, Harry traced a path over the curve of the blond's neck, delicately licking and sucking as he moved towards what really held him in thrall – that sweet, hot mouth. Capturing it, Harry delved his tongue into it, curling it around Draco's as chocolate and cream burst across his tongue, mingling with the taste that was inherently Draco and making something altogether new and fantastic. Forget treacle tart; he'd just found his new favourite treat.

Breathing growing ragged, Harry continued to devour the other boy's mouth, sealing it with kiss after continuous kiss, until both were panting into the others mouth, their slightly sticky skin pressed together. Gasping as their silk-clad cocks slid together, Harry wrenched away from that perfect mouth to grind his hips into Draco's, eliciting an almost pained cry from the other boy, his eyes clenched at the pleasure tracing fiery paths along his nerves. Opening his eyes, he stared down into smoky eyes, whimpering at the sheer feral need that burned in them; one that grew into a full out moan when Draco thrust up into him, making their erections slither along side each other.

"Merlin," he cried softly, his body trembling with need at this point, and his mind beyond blown as Draco took the reins once more, rolling his hips into Harry's in a sinuous motion.

"_Draco_, Harry," the blond smirked, putting his hands on Harry's hips. "But if you wish to deify me, I shan't complain."

"No," Harry protested as he felt Draco try and flip him over, pressing his hands firmly into the other boy's chest. "I want to...erm...I want to..."

Harry trailed off, biting his lower lip and flushing as Draco stared at him uncomprehendingly until Harry gestured between them; and then a fervent light glowed in the depths of those fathomless eyes as understanding dawned, leaving Draco flushed and panting. Gripping the back of Harry's neck, Draco dragged him into fevered, hard kiss, entangling his tongue with Harry's for just a moment before whispering hotly against his lips.

"_Then ride me,_ _Harry_."

Harry mewled, lust slamming through his body, those sinful words echoing in his head as he rose, and hands pressed into Draco's chest, gave a tentative roll of his hips, grunting under his breath as his pleasure spiked when silk slid against silk and in turn, slid against his own hard, heated flesh. _Fucking hell_, that felt brilliant. And given the state of the blond beneath him, Draco concurred as he growled under his breath.

"Don't be a pansy, Potter," he grunted, digging his fingers into Harry's hips as he ground his cock against him. "You can do better than that; ride me!"

Harry growled at the command, narrowing his eyes at the writhing blond for just a moment before he responded, and began to frot against him in earnest, unable to resist such a challenge. Panting quietly, Harry leaned over, allowing their cocks to brush against each other with every thrust of his hips, mimicking the far more intimate act that he'd rather be doing, and fuelling that river of lust streaming into their veins.

"Gods, yes, _Harry_," Draco choked out, his hips arching into Harry as he came, filling Harry with a sense of power as he watched Draco come undone. Watching wide-eyed as Draco threw his head back, eyes clenched in ecstasy, he continued to rub his clothed erection against the other boy's hip for just a few erratic strokes before tossing his head back and crying out as he too came, stars bursting across his vision.

Harry drew in several gulping breaths, his body tight, suspended and tingling as pleasure coursed through him; and then he slumped against Draco's chest, completely winded. Eyes closed, Harry laid there, swimming, _drowning_ really, in bliss, absently stroking Draco's glowing skin, and enjoying his lover's little, rumbling purrs. He could easily stay like that forever, but he knew that time was running short; he had told everyone he wouldn't be long and he had no doubt that Ron would come looking for him if he was gone for much longer.

"I'd better get back," Harry sighed, kissing Draco softly as he rose, saddened that he couldn't just lie here with his lover, especially when Draco made a discontented little sound in the back of his throat. He didn't want to leave either, but perhaps someday... someday they might come clean and he could have everything he dreamed of. "I told everyone I was going to get a snack from the kitchens and that I'd be right back. If I don't turn up soon, they're likely to come looking."

Quickly putting on his clothing, Harry leaned back over for one last sweet kiss before he walked towards the portrait door, where he paused and looked back, smiling softly at his lover's replete, lounging figure. He was so beautiful and Harry couldn't wait until they had the chance to meet up again. Holding Draco's gaze for several long moments, he was again stunned by the emotions that seemed to flit through them, and blowing one last kiss, he walked out before he could give into the pull of that beautiful man, and quickly made his way to the common room, promising to himself that he would seek him out soon.

... ... ...

"I thought he said he was just going to the kitchens?" Ron asked, sounding slightly bewildered and concerned as he looked at those surrounding him in the eighth-year common room – namely his girlfriend Hermione, his sister Ginny and her boyfriend Neville. Studying their unreadable expressions silently, he huffed when Ginny and Hermione exchanged that look girls always had when they thought a member of the male gender was being particularly dense, and muttered under his breath. "Well, he did."

"Actually," Ginny smirked, reminding Ron of all too well of that bastard Malfoy, especially when coupled with the sly glint in her eyes, and then chuckled. "I believe he said he was 'going for some _dessert_.'"

"Right," Ron nodded, nearly missing his girlfriend's exasperated sigh, and frowned when she merely shook her head sadly. He hated when they did that; looked at him as if he were completely gormless, but he pressed on, "what else could…." Ron paused, his sister's nearly honeyed insinuation hitting home in the next moment, making him grimace in distaste. "_Oh,_ _eww_; _Ginny!_"

Ginny and Hermione giggled at his expression, the both of them holding their stomachs as he continued to gag at the thought of Harry in any sexual situation. It was just so wrong on so many levels that he couldn't even begin to explain it. Unbidden, a flash of Harry wrapped around some female, or male for that matter, with his head thrown back in pleasure, insinuated itself behind his eyes and he turned green, and dropped his reeling head into his hands in dismay. He was going to kill Ginny for that comment.

Lifting his head, he opened his mouth to say so when the portrait door opened and in stumbled the object of their current discussion, his clothing distinctly rumpled, and humming absently to himself. Ron stared at his friend in horror at the implications, his stomach decidedly off as he made out the faint outline of what was sure to be a spectacular love bite on Harry's neck come morning. Scrunching his nose in distaste, he tore his gaze away, only to be met with his sister's and girlfriend's knowing smiles, which had him glowering at the floor as Ginny greeted Harry.

"So, Harry…" Ginny purred slyly, flicking a smug grin towards Ron as Harry opened his eyes sleepily and raised a single brow in question. "How was dessert?"

"Fantastic," Harry replied dreamily, drawing out the word in such a way that it left no doubts to what he had been up to that night.

Ron just studied his hands silently, slightly aghast and feeling quite ill as Harry sauntered over to their little corner and flopped bonelessly into a chair, his utterly satiated smile making Neville flush uncomfortably and both girls giggle helplessly. Ron inhaled deeply, and pinched the bridge of his nose before holding a single hand to stave off any explanations. As much as he loved Harry, he just didn't need to know.

"No details," Ron muttered; a slight shudder slid over his spine as the visual Ginny had so ruthlessly implanted in his head flashed before his eyes again. Merlin, that image was going to haunt him forever. And it wasn't that he was disgusted by Harry's orientation. He knew after a long chat at the end of summer that Harry was bisexual, although he tended to lean towards men. And he accepted that. It was just…it was _Harry_, who was like his _brother_, and he didn't even want to think about what he had been doing to look so dishevelled. "Please."

"What?" Harry asked, confused eyes trying to meet his, but Ron kept them carefully averted.

"Never mind him," Hermione clucked, sending Ron a '_you better shut up if you know what's good for you glance_,' sending a chill down his spine, and then turned back to Harry with a gentle smile. "Ron's just being a prat; ignore him. "

Harry smiled at that and then tried to make sense of his more tangled than usual bed-head. Ron's stomach turned yet again at the knowledge of why that was; and he was considering excusing himself, just knowing that Ginny and Hermione were dying to hear the details, when a soft question had him perking his ears.

"Good to you?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ron looked up, somewhat bewildered by the question, and watched as Hermione searched Harry's face probingly, her soft, brown eyes crinkling in amusement when Harry's jaw dropped open, and then just as quickly snapped shut as his cheeks flushed hotly and he squirmed uncomfortably under Hermione's gaze. Narrowing his eyes, Ron's gaze danced between them as Harry slowly nodded his affirmation. _She knew!_ She… wait, of course she knew; it was Hermione; but still, she _knew_ and hadn't said anything. And didn't that hurt just a bit, especially when Harry gave Hermione a hesitant smile, his eyes filling with anxiety as he waited for her to speak once more.

"I'm glad, Harry," Hermione nodded, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Ginny, who just grinned right back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Wait, she told _Ginny_, but didn't tell him? Unfair! "We've been worried about you spending so much time alone. It's good to hear that you have someone."

Harry beamed, his eyes lighting up as he latched onto both Hermione and Ginny, squeezing them into a tight group hug until they squeaked, obviously thrilled that he had their approval. Once he released them, Harry slumped back in his seat and yawned widely, bringing those damned visuals back to the forefront of Ron's brain, and he couldn't help turning slightly green as Harry smiled dopily and then slowly rose and stretched, his shirt raising as he did so. Ron stared at yet more marks littering Harry's skin and flushed, quickly looking away.

"I'm going to head to bed," Harry said, dropping his arms and lazily making his way to the boys' dorms. "I'm a bit tired."

"I'll just bet you are…" Ginny cackled, earning her another flush as Harry rolled his eyes and flicked her a rather rude hand gesture. But rather than getting angry as Ron expected, Ginny just giggled and blew him a kiss as Harry continued out of the room.

Ron stared at all three, utterly gobsmacked, before turning to Neville, hoping to find some support in that direction; or even just a little commiseration for the madness that had overtaken their friends, but Neville quickly averted his gaze, his cheeks heating in response. _Bloody, buggering hell!_ Did Neville know too? Was he the only of his friends in the dark?

Turning his head back to his friend's rapidly disappearing back, Ron grumbled under his breath, especially as he noted that Zabini and Parkinson were whispering frantically between themselves, equally entranced with Harry's retreat. He had to wonder what they were up to, particularly when Malfoy joined them with a smug grin minutes later. Dismissing the Slytherin prat and his harem, Ron rejoined his friends' conversation, grimacing and cutting off a mischievously grinning Ginny when she opened her mouth.

"Not a word. Just… not a word. I don't even want to guess what that was all about."


	18. CAM - Shameless Sportsmanship

**AN:** Just a heads up, this is unbeta'd, but I wanted to post it asap, and I'll update it once my beta is available to look it over.

* * *

**Shameless Sportsmanship**

Draco stood beneath the shower head, steaming, hot water cascading over his head, the pounding spray rinsing dust and sweat from his body and easing the ache that had built in overworked muscles. The Quidditch game had been a brutal one, taking hours to play; and mostly due to his own interference, so he had no room to complain for his soreness. Harry could have easily ended the game several times - had his mind actually been on the game, and not the naughty, sinful words Draco had been whispering to him throughout it. But between that and the daydreams likely flitting through his mind as a result, Harry had been a bit...distracted and lost the snitch numerous times.

Much to Draco's advantage.

Smirking to himself for a job well done, he tilted his head forward, dropping it so the spray could splash against his stiff neck, allowing it to work its magic there before it streamed over shivering, pebbled skin in thick, heavy rivulets as he washed the day's grime away. Seeing Harry's face when he plucked the snitch away from him, almost out of thin air, had been priceless. The poor man looked torn between tossing Draco to the ground and beating him senseless for cheating, or tossing him down and shagging him senseless for his teasing.

Not that it mattered in the end. The game was merely for fun, but Harry's notorious competitive streak wouldn't let that pass without issue. Or at least, that's what Draco hoped.

Quidditch hadn't officially recommenced this year, as Headmistress McGonagall and the other professors had been far more focused on revamping the curriculum and making certain that the castle was safe for the students to be bothered by extracurricular activities. But that hadn't stopped the more industrious students from forming their own teams and competing. Harry had been insistent on playing his final year, citing that he had missed far too many years due to circumstances beyond his control.

So, he pulled all former team members together, along with anyone else who had an interest, and thus the Hogwarts Quidditch League was born. Draco couldn't blame him, as he had been less than happy to hear that Quidditch had been cancelled as well, and had been all too happy to throw his lot in. And it had been successful on many fronts.

_One_, they were playing Quidditch.

_Two_, due to the nature of the league, it was mixed house, which supported the inter-house cooperation party-line that had been crammed down their throats since they'd come back.

_Three_, he got to play Quidditch.

_Four_, McGonagall was so happy with their little experiment, that she'd asked if he and Harry would write up a proposal that she could present at the next professor's meeting for the potential future of Quidditch at Hogwarts.

_Five_, he got to play Quidditch against _Harry_.

Sensing a trend here?

While he was thrilled that their league had flourished and garnered recognition, he really was far more interested in playing against Harry again. He had to admit, getting Harry thrown off the team in fifth year, while immediately satisfying at the time, had been the stupidest thing he'd ever done. Once Harry was gone, there was no real competition, and he had been bored to tears with each game he played. There had been nothing more exciting, and dare he say arousing, than watching Harry's eyes flash at him as they hunted down the snitch.

But he digressed.

Tipping his head back, Draco closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair, rinsing the suds from it as he turned his mind back over the game he'd just won under questionable methods, relaxing minutely as the locker room emptied around him. And his lips spread into a smug grin as the visual of a flushed, aroused Harry flashed before his eyes.

_Draco, having seen the snitch first for once, had flown up to Harry, and began whispering quietly into his ear on how he wanted Harry to find him after the game, push him into the shower tiles and shag him silly. Harry had flushed oh-so-prettily at his naughty words, squirming on his broom as his cock filled and barely bit back an oath when Draco flicked his tongue over the shell of Harry's ear once he noted he was sheltered from others view. _

_This all in conjunction with Draco holding and stroking the shaft of Harry's broom suggestively._

_Harry's lashes had fluttered beautifully, his lips parting slightly to allow the tip of his tongue to peek out and flick over parched lips. His breath had fallen in delicious little pants as Draco continued to manipulate both Harry's broom handle and his words, mentioning how he couldn't wait until Harry's cock stretched him fully, and pounded him relentlessly into the wall, hot water slicking over their equally hot, sweaty bodies. Harry had moaned at that point, his eyes sliding shut as he gripped the handle of his broom tightly, his knuckles blanching under the strain of keeping his hands to himself. _

_And then Draco had smirked, and took off after the snitch, leaving a dazed Harry reeling in his wake..._

Moaning quietly, Draco slid his hands over his chest, pinching his nipples once before allowing them to continue their trek over his abs and down to his groin, where one wrapped around his rapidly filling cock, and the other braced his weight against the wall. Fuck, but Harry had been hot once he had realised just what Draco had done. Giving a slow tug on his prick, Draco sighed, and allowed his mind to fill with those tantalising images.

_Harry had rebounded quickly and was after him in a flash, his eyes narrowed dangerously as he shadowed Draco relentlessly, blithely following him under the stands to his own doom. And there, Draco had ambushed him, slowing his pace enough, so that Harry rode along side him, looking at him in confusion until Draco had latched onto his broom and shoved him against the stands. Harry had let out a startled breath, green eyes staring in open bewilderment until Draco invaded his space. And then they flared with heat._

"_M-Malfoy, what are you doing?" Harry stammered, groaning when, instead answering at first, Draco ran his hands over the seeker's svelte form, taunting and teasing him as promised earlier, his already overheated body growing hotter to the touch._

"_I should think that its self-explanatory, Potter," he purred silkily, capturing those sweet lips for a long, unhurried kiss that sent his heart racing and his blood rushing, all the while tracking his hands trailed over Harry's very fit body, the potential of them being caught only adding to the excitement coursing through his veins._

"_Malfoy…Draco, please," Harry whispered, his breathing ragged as Draco released his mouth, knowing all too well that they couldn't linger. Smirking at the other boy's deliciously debauched appearance, and the neediness lacing Harry's voice, Draco leaned over and pressed another hard kiss to those tempting lips before abruptly pulling away._

"_Catch me if you can, _Harry_," Draco taunted, echoing the words that had started this entire venture? Relationship? And then he bolted once more, leaving a very frustrated, rumpled Gryffindor glowering after him and clutching the side of the stands as he caught his breath._

It had continued in that same vein for the entirety of the game, until Harry had been all but snapping and snarling at his each and every approach, and looked as if he were tempted to throw Draco onto the field and have his way with him regardless of the consequences.

Just as Draco had planned. _He so needed this_.

Recently their trysts hadn't been of the planned nature; instead they usually happened at every turn and in any chance they could get their hands on each other, and they were filled with sweet kisses, soft touches and hot bodies pressed tightly together. And he had enjoyed it; loved the deepening of their relationship. It was exactly what he wanted for the long run.

But after weeks of tenderness, sometimes he wished for those first seethingly hot moments where Harry took control and pressed him into the nearest wall, or table, or mattress, or whatever surface was available and teased him with punishing kisses and rough caresses. Which is why he had begun his tormenting game today; enflaming the fiery Gryffindor with his words, taunting him with visuals of them wrapped together until Harry could barely see straight. And then, he'd snatched the snitch right out from under those glassy eyes, fully knowing that the irritated Leo would see his distraction as a form of cheating and would end up stalking him to take his revenge.

And he couldn't wait until his actions caught up with him, leaving him at the mercy of his wrathful lion-snake, who would all to happy to prove that Harry Potter could _not_ be tamed despite their recent rash of softness.

"Someone was being a teasing, little prat today…" a husky voice whispered darkly against his ear, yanking him from his thoughts and halting his slow, tantalising movements mid-stroke; a soft, sinful rasp that, when paired with Quidditch-roughened hands wrapping around his hips, sent his heart thrumming madly. Gasping softly as Harry jerked him back against a hard, damp chest, Draco closed his eyes and moaned as bare skin moulded to his.

"I don't know what you mean," Draco drawled 'innocently', fighting to keep his breathing even and unaffected as a warm, wet, solid form slid sinuously against his own, and he knew in the split second before Harry shoved him unceremoniously into the tiles that the other boy was as naked as he.

"Of course you don't," Harry agreed, his tone sardonic as he pressed deeper into Draco's back until they were flush, thigh to thigh, hip to hip, and chest to back with Harry's cock snuggly nestled between Draco's arse cheeks. It left him breathless and aching. Hot breath wafted over the shell of Draco's ear as Harry continued conversationally.

"It must have been some other blond Slytherin that kept flirting with me. Teasing and taunting me with visuals of fucking him in the broom shed? _Touching_ me when we followed the snitch, but lost it under the Slytherin stands; all but wanking me off before he conveniently disappeared, leaving me with a massive hard on?"

"Better not have been," Draco muttered, his tone darker and icier than a midwinter's night, his eyes flashing a steely grey at the thought of _anyone_ else touching the perfect body behind him. Draco's breath snagged when a sexy chuckle rumbled in his ear at that response, and then exited in a rush as an arm cinched around his waist possessively.

"I'd have to kill Theo," he added breathlessly.

Teeth sank into crook of his neck, scraping over wet, tender skin, sending sparks shooting down his spine, igniting the lust pooling in his groin. _Merlin_, but he did love this side of Harry; he wished it would come out to play much more often. Sighing as greedy lips, teeth and tongue sucked and bit and lapped at his neck, Draco rubbed his hips against Harry's, loving the way they fit together and the frisson of electricity that shot across his nerves from the friction.

Groaning when Harry's mouth moved down over his shoulders, Draco was tempted to push the Gryffindor away and turn around for what would be his first full view of naked Potter, but the thought melted away under a renewed onslaught of callused hands, which joined those soft lips in pushing him to higher realms of pleasure. Especially when the nips and kisses were mixed with the sinfully sexy sighs and hitches of breath coming from the man worshiping his body.

"I believe you owe me for that little stunt," Harry rasped, his hands running the length of Draco's torso to settle on his hips, digging into the soft flesh as Harry nudged his cock between Draco's thighs, and Draco couldn't help the catch in his voice when he asked.

"Owe you for what?" He pleaded innocence, and then smirked when the other man huffed.

Harry gave his arse a little admonishing smack, making the skin tingle with a delicious burn, and his cock jumped to attention at the action. _Fuck_. The lucky bastard would stumble onto one of Draco's kinks without even trying. He groaned in earnest when, noticing his reaction, Harry hummed in approval and smacked him once again, this time on the other cheek. Gasping aloud, Draco squirmed as Harry then slid rough hands over the warmed, reddened skin, squeezing and massaging it in emphasis as he growled.

"For making me so hard, I was more focused on pushing this pretty, white arse against the locker room shower wall, _and_ fucking you senseless, than playing the game."

Draco arched into those caresses, inviting more of the same, and pouted when Harry just laughed softly and stepped away, pulling all that hot, pliant skin away from his needy body. Draco shivered at the sudden chill, but it lasted only a second before his skin heated once more as Harry hauled off and smacked his arse for a third time, this time on the full cheek, eliciting another shudder. But this one was from delight.

"You cost me the snitch, Malfoy," Harry accused, his tone the same colour as the richest, dark chocolate and just as velvety, each word punctuated with a solid smack to Draco's backside; and each of them just enough to sting and make his cock twitch in anticipation, but not enough to bruise. It left him an aching, shivering mess. _Yes_, this is _exactly_ what he wanted.

Arching into the final blow, ten total, five for each cheek, he panted and squirmed, attempting to rub his aching cock against the cool tiles for a spot of relief, but was halted by firm hands digging into his hips again. Once he'd stilled, waiting for Harry's next move, he huffed and grew increasingly frustrated when the raven seemed content to run his hands soothingly over his injured flesh instead of bloody well doing something.

This was so not on. He wanted…no _needed_ Harry to lose his control and just take what he wanted, not worship him as he had done some many times before in the past few weeks. Biting his bottom lip, he glanced at the occupied raven with a sly glint in his eyes and decided to fan the flames of his ire by reminding him just why he sought Draco out.

"I did no such thing," he declared unrepentantly, turning up his nose haughtily and sniffing with a touch of disdain. "It's not my fault you're so easily distracted."

Draco held his breath as the man behind him inhaled sharply and then froze to a near cellular level, and fought from taking back the words when the other man growled a warning in his throat. He knew there was nothing that Harry both loved, and hated with a passion, than to have his authority challenged; it automatically made the brunet want to prove the challenger wrong in that endearingly brash, Gryffindor way of his. And for all of Harry's Slytherin traits, Draco knew that it was this Gryffindor trait that would get him exactly what he wanted – a hot, commanding raven bent on making Draco succumb to his each and every whim.

"We'll see about that," Harry responded between clenched teeth, his hands slicking up over Draco's back and gripping his shoulders tightly, suddenly flipping Draco around to face him, and then slammed him back into the tiles once more. Air exploded from his lungs as he hit, leaving him breathless, a condition that intensified as fiery green eyes clashed with his, and he suddenly had an armful of hot, naked Gryffindor.

_Bloody hell_, he should have done this long ago.

Groaning when Harry's cock pressed and slid wetly against his, Draco rocked his hips, silently begging for more of that beautiful friction and slid his hands over Harry's back, enjoying the play of sinew and skin beneath his hands. And barely managed to quell a squeak when Harry growled again and pressed back, ripping Draco's hands from his body and unceremoniously pinning them above his head. Breathing rapidly, Draco knew that, had he wanted, he could free himself from Harry's grasp, but as this had been the desired outcome, he stood there, passive in his hands.

Well, to a degree. Malfoys weren't passive by nature and he was the least passive of them all.

"Can't prove it," he taunted, groaning when Harry leaned in, his kiss-swollen, cherry red lips hovering enticingly above Draco's as continued to move sinuously against him, teasing Draco to newer heights. Licking parched lips, Draco defiantly tipped his head at a slight angle, so that their lips were mere centimetres apart and their breaths mingled as Harry once again moulded scorching flesh against Draco's.

"Don't need to," Harry countered, his voice low and dangerous as he skimmed his lips over Draco's, and then teasingly pulled away when Draco leaned in for more; he shuddered as that voice slid over his skin like satin, stroking his insides in ways a mere voice shouldn't have the power to do, especially when the raven taunted wickedly. "I'll just take it out on your beautiful arse." Draco gasped as Harry then smirked and squeezed his wrists, commanding in that same silken tone. "Leave them there."

The '_or else'_ was implied, which made Draco tremble to a degree, and then briefly consider tempting fate by pulling them away just to see what Harry would do if he disobeyed. But as Harry stared intently into his eyes, Draco only gave a little breathless nod, which then hitched as Harry slowly slid his hands over Draco's upraised arms, and down his sides to anchor at his hips. Draco returned that heated gaze, entranced by the flames licking within bright emeralds, and arched against the other man temptingly, daring him to do his worst.

Harry answered with a rumbling purr, reminding Draco of the great cat that represented his House, and tilted his head, bringing their lips just a hairbreadth apart; and then Draco's lashes closed completely as the Gryffindor captured his mouth in a fiery kiss that curled his toes. Moaning into Harry's mouth, it took every ounce of his self-control to _not_ wrap his hands into silky black hair. Something Harry must have deduced given the smirk the spread over those perfect lips as they continued to tease and torment him, first with little kisses and nips to his lips, and then across his jaw and down his neck.

"Think you can get me to repent?" he challenged softly, a thrill shooting through his body as Harry's hands clenched at the impertinent question, and then deepened as Harry flicked darkened, forest green eyes his way, a slow, enigmatic smile curling his lips; and Draco couldn't help wondering just what manner of wickedness was flitting through that devious mind.

"Oh, I think I'll have you begging for mercy by the time I'm through with you," Harry promised devilishly, his lips sliding over Draco's jaw, nipping at the sharp edge as he added just as shamelessly. "And for my cock as well."

With that sinful threat, Harry began to devour his jaw, neck and shoulders in earnest, his mouth slowly driving Draco mad as it took the path his hands had taken earlier, licking and sucking and just_ bloody killing_ him with heat and desire and want. Shuddering with need, he jolted when Harry's tongue first flicked over a pebbled nipple and then curled his tongue around it, sucking it into that talented mouth.

Teeth caught on the edges of it, scraping his skin and Draco keened as his hips bucked softly into Harry's; he gave another subtle roll when the raven hissed, hoping to entice the other boy into reciprocating. But Harry just chuckled, swatted his arse gently and then continued to torment his skin, blatantly ignoring the erection boring into his hip. Frustrated by the lack of response, Draco removed his hands, reaching down to latch onto those lustrous black locks and bloody force Harry to comply, but hands shot up and slammed them back against the tiles, pinning him down as verdant eyes remonstrated him sharply.

_Fuck_, but he _really_ loved it when Harry got this way. It was why he spent the entire game tweaking the lion's tail.

"Dirty, little cheat," Harry censured, and Draco couldn't tell whether he was referring to this afternoon's game or his current attempt at escape, but it didn't matter as Harry's lips were on his skin once more, and it was bloody brilliant. "It's time to reap what you've sown."

"Please," Draco couldn't resist sniping, just knowing it was likely to land him in hotter water than that they were currently standing beneath; and he was right as those intense eyes flicked up again, sending a trill of excitement tripped down his spine. Grinning cheekily, he met smouldering eyes unflinchingly and sniffed. "You're all talk, Potter."

His impertinence was rewarded immediately.

Breath catching in his throat as Harry's eyes flashed dangerously, Draco watched in anxious fascination as the other man slowly straightened, his mouth set in a determined line and then gasped when Harry shoved him back into the tiles behind him. His heart rate tripled, racing so hard that he thought it would beat right out of his chest as golden skin slid, _writhed_ against his and a hot breath whispered against his ear when his…paramour (?) scoffed wickedly. "Did you really think that I'd gone soft, sweet and docile in our time together, Malfoy? _Please_. Do remember that I am a _Gryffindor_, _not_ a Hufflepuff; and it will take more than a few sweet kisses and short gropes to tame me."

Draco squawked in protest, his own eyes flaming at the unspoken implication that he didn't have what it took to pin the passionate lion down. Narrowing his gaze, he wrapped his fingers around the snickering Gryffindor's wrists and moved to reverse their positions and show the brat just how skilled Draco could at making Harry beg for his cock. But Harry, sensing Draco's intentions, pressed back, effectively trapping Draco within the circle of his arms, and held him down with nothing more than his body and sheer will, their eyes caught in one of those intense stares that left him unable to breathe.

The action of being so thoroughly trapped, pinned down by the other man, made Draco's blood burn and bubble, rushing through his veins like liquid fire, and sunk straight to his twitching cock, which gave its wholehearted approval to Harry's actions. Fuck the man was hot. Groaning when skin melded with skin, Draco relaxed his grip and tilted his head back into the tiles, signalling his acceptance, and subsequent surrender.

At least for now.

"You_ like_ this, _don't_ you?" Harry purred, trailing hot kisses over his neck, nipping gently as he taunted sotto voce. "Being held down; having your fine-tuned control stripped away. Feeling just a bit helpless as I do things to you; and you, being unable to stop me. Having to trust that I won't go too far, but secretly hoping I will. Ordering you to pleasure me, while you have to wait on mine for completion."

_Fuck. Yes. Could he have some more, please?_

"Is _that_ what you want, Draco?" Harry asked silkily, his hand sliding between them to cup and fondle his balls, fevered eyes running over him lazily. Draco nodded jerkily, unable to untangle his tongue long enough to answer the blazingly hot and in control man in front of him, hissing when fingers continued to tease and caress him, bringing a drop of pre-cum to the tip of his cock. Harry chuckled at his enthusiasm and murmured, in a voice almost too soft to hear, "Granted."

Inhaling sharply as Harry's magic washed over him, Draco gave a low moan as he felt it wrap and tighten around his cock and balls, revealing only then that Harry planned to use a magical cock ring on him. He really should have been paying more attention to the actual words Harry had been saying, rather than getting wrapped up in the sound of that dark, husky voice and the feeling of being held down. The man had told him exactly what to expect after all.

With that, Harry kissed him softly, his eyes seeking his to make sure Draco realised what he was getting into, and then, obviously finding the answers he sought, stepped back to flick ravenous eyes over Draco. Licking his lips lasciviously, Harry's eyes traced over him slowly, his cock giving a twitch as Draco stood there, waiting on his command. Finally, after he had his fill, Harry's eyes flicked back up and met his, a slow wicked smile curling those impossibly kissable, perfect lips.

"On your knees," Harry commanded in a soft, dangerous tone, sending a ripple of excitement, and just a touch of apprehension, through Draco.

It was at this moment that Draco nearly baulked, used to doing exactly the opposite of everything Harry Potter wanted; but the slightly feral flicker in those fathomless eyes, almost daring him to refuse, had him swallowing heavily and dropping gracefully to his knees instead. Heart thudding in his ears, Draco watched as pleasure lit Harry's eyes, and then the raven firmed his shoulders and seemed to fall into his role as dominant without hesitation; and didn't _that_ make Draco all the hotter and harder to see. Kneeling before Harry, he dipped his head, placing his hands lightly on his thighs, and lowered his eyes in the perfect image of a submissive.

A thick silence blanketed them as Harry stalked over, and straddling his knees, stood above him, his cock jutting proudly from his body nearly at mouth level; and still, despite wanting to taste that beautiful cock, Draco kept his eyes lowered, awaiting the other man's command. Harry wrapped on hand in Draco's hair, firm fingers curling around the strands and yanked it back, just far enough so that the tip of his cock touched Draco's lips. Brushing the leaking crown back and forth across them, Harry closed his eyes and let his head to fall back, a shiver of bliss visibly wracking his body as he commanded huskily.

"Suck me."

Draco, eyes demurely cast, opened his mouth, and sucked the slick head into it, moaning as the salty, slightly bitter taste of Harry's cock exploded over his tongue. Sucking on it shamelessly, he swirled his tongue over the crown, loving the feeling of each ridge and indent as he began to bob lightly, taking a little more in each time. Releasing the head with a soft pop, Draco nuzzled the springy curls at the base with his nose, delighting in the low, drawn out moan that fell past Harry's parted lips.

Licking a long, wet stripe up the bobbing cock in front of him, Draco kept his hands balled in his lap to prevent latching onto Harry's hips and sucking him down, as Harry hadn't said whether he could use them or not. It made manoeuvering a bit more difficult, but the lovely groans, whimpers and words of encouragement from above kept him on task as he slowly tormented the other man. Slitting his eyes a touch, he watched through his lashes as Harry struggled to keep his hips still through every lick, nibble and suck as Draco treated Harry's cock like his favourite lolly, and then hummed when Harry moaned again, his hands fisting into his hair.

"You may…" Harry rasped, dropping his head to stare at Draco, seemingly mesmerised by the sight of him moving on his cock, and, pupils blown with lust, Harry petted his hair absently, threading his fingers through it for handhold. "You may use your hands…_oh, Merlin_."

Harry cried out as Draco immediately took that permission to heart and wrapped his hands around Harry's hips, digging his fingers into the skin, and used them to steady himself as he sucked Harry's cock into his mouth, swallowing it near whole. Harry felt hot and heavy on his tongue, and tasted like musk and sweat and heaven as he curled it around the shaft, licking and sucking languorously; and he had to fight not to gag when Harry unconsciously arched into the touch, shoving his dick further into his mouth, hitting the back of his throat.

Harry looked down apologetically, but was soon lost once more to Draco's mouth and tongue. Fingers curled into Draco's hair, tightening to an almost painful level as Harry tipped his head back and moaned his approval as Draco hummed again.

"_Yes_," Harry hissed, his words almost sounding like parseltongue, making Draco's own cock jolt at the sibilant sounds. Draco bucked his hips against the floor tiles, whimpering when he found no relief for his impossibly hard cock, and only felt vindicated when the vibration sent Harry's eyes rolling back into his head, and even more words of heated encouragement spilt out of his mouth. "Just like that, Dragon. _So good_."

Draco released Harry with an audible pop, a bit surprised by the use of his childhood nickname; he hadn't even been aware that Harry had known what his name meant. Licking his lips, he tilted his head back, meaning to take Harry's cock into his mouth again, but froze when brilliant, smouldering eyes pinned him into place, burning into him with the force of the sun and Draco swore that he couldn't possibly get harder or more turned on. And then Harry smirked and licked his lips, and quietly rasped, "On your feet, Malfoy."

Draco scrambled to his feet, gasping when Harry pulled him into his arms and then pressed them both back into the tiles in one swift movement, curling and moulding around Draco as their cocks slid and brushed against each other. Harry rolled his hips against his in small, mind-blowing circles, rocking and thrusting into Draco until he finally broke down and growled against Harry's throat. "_Fuck_. Fuck me already, Potter."

Grunting his displeasure when Harry merely snickered, his mouth curling into a smirk as Draco practically begged to be fucked, just as the other man had predicted earlier, and sent Draco grinding his hips mercilessly into Harry's in retaliation, nearly sending the other man to his knees. Growling, Harry gripped Draco's hips and squeezed, undulating his in response, drawing a small cry from Draco. And panting softly, Harry pressed a hard kiss against his lips, murmuring. "No. Not yet. The first time…the first time should be in a proper bed, not up against the locker room wall no matter how appealing."

Draco wanted to protest at that, but then Harry was disentangling their bodies, and stepping away, his voice a harsh whisper as he commanded imperiously. "Turn around; brace yourself against the tiles."

Scrabbling to comply, Draco rested his hands against the tiles, groaning when Harry took up the position behind him, his cock prodding at Draco's backside; and for a brief moment he worried that Harry might just enter him unprepared in his eagerness. But he quickly shunted that momentary fear away as Harry's hot, stiff flesh slid along the crack of his arse instead, feeling a bit silly for his nerves. He knew that no matter how far gone the other man might be, he would never knowingly hurt Draco.

Groaning as he felt that long, hard length between his thighs, rutting and sliding against his skin, Draco still couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed that Harry didn't intend to fuck him in truth that day. How he longed to be breached by the other man. But _this_...this was nearly as good.

Pushing himself into the wall, Draco rested a flushed cheek against the cool tiles, and bit back a whine when Harry squeezed and kneaded his arse, positioning himself so his cock slid between Draco's thighs with ease, and moaned lowly when the tip hit the back of his balls, nudging them gently. Arching his arse into Harry's hips, he reached a hand down to stroke himself, but his hand was forcefully slapped back onto the wall as Harry ground into his arse, a low muttered '_no touching what's mine_,' his only acknowledgment. Whimpering at the denial, Draco leaned into the wall as Harry began to thrust between his arse cheeks, hoping the momentum would slid his aching cock along the wall and offer some relief.

"_Touch me_," he demanded, nudging back with his hips, wiggling them against Harry's firm flesh, making the other man's breath hitch and fall into a helpless groan from the depths of his chest. When Harry to didn't immediately comply, Draco shifted his legs, closing the gap around his thighs and Harry's cock, subtly adding to the delicious skin on skin friction.

"_Fuck_," Harry muttered, reaching between them to wrap his hand around Draco's weeping cock, and began to languidly stroke it until Draco, fed up with the lack of speed, groaned and began to shamelessly fuck his hand. Harry squeezed Draco's shaft, allowing him to rut into his hand for a few moments, but then quickly took the reins once more, setting an almost bruising pace as he fucked the tight space between Draco's thighs, his body trembling with desire and exertion.

Draco strained in Harry embrace, the spell on his cock and balls making his movements near painful as Harry denied him his orgasm, content to rut against Draco's body while he was helpless to Harry's every whim. Fuck, but it turned him on and he loved the feeling of Harry's cock pounding him from behind, the crown rhythmically nudging his ball sack as the other man ground and thrust against him, over and over until, _finally_, Harry's orgasm ripped through him with a low growl.

"Mine," Harry whispered possessively, fiercely, as he finally released the spell that held Draco's pleasure in check, and then ground into him once more as he rode out the last of his own pleasure.

_'Yours,'_ Draco agreed in the back of his mind, crying out Harry's name as his body tensed in a familiar way, and one last stroke had him teetering over the edge, his sight whiting out, and stars bursting in his brain as he came harder than he'd ever come in his life.

Breathing harshly, Draco slumped against the tiles, trying to regain his composure as Harry slumped too, a heavy weight at his back, thankfully holding him up, as he was certain he'd slip to the floor otherwise. Drawing in several deep breaths, he whimpered as Harry's hands slid over sensitive skin, gently, but deftly rinsing their release from their bodies and he purred when he felt warm, soft lips at his nape, pressing sweet kisses along the length.

They leaned there, pressed together for several minutes, enjoying the feel of each others body and the warm cascade of water falling over them, until finally, their surroundings came back to them and Harry reluctantly pulled away. Turning to face Harry, he was surprised when he found the Gryffindor blushing and staring at his feet, obviously embarrassed by something. Walking over to Harry, he slid a finger under his chin and lifted his head, meeting wide, almost apologetic green eyes. And that's when Harry's behaviour dawned on him.

"Ummmm...errr," Harry stammered, his cheeks heating further when Draco just grinned at his adorable display of nerves. Only Harry would feel bad for dominating him and giving him exactly what he had been all but begging for the entire time.

"Potter," Draco stated dryly, but fondly, as he pushed a stray black curl behind the other man's ear. "If you even think about apologizing for what we did, I just might have to tie you down and show you how it's done properly; and without remorse."

"Right, right," Harry blushed, but grinned at him shyly, his eyes lighting in interest at the mention of being tied down, and Draco deftly filed that away for later exploration.

"You did _nothing_ that I didn't _want_ you to do," Draco emphasised meaningfully, his eyes dancing when Harry's shoulders released their tension, and he sagged in relief for a moment before sharp eyes turned his way, having caught his words. Draco merely grinned unrepentantly.

"You..." Harry began before trailing off to narrow his eyes thoughtfully, his lips thinning in feigned displeasure at the implications; unfortunately the sparkle of humour in his eyes gave away his utter amusement at being expertly played. "You did this on purpose."

"Brilliant deduction, Potter," Draco drawled with Gallic shrug, sweeping back his hair and turning off the water as he reached for his towel to dry off, and lobbed Harry's earlier words back at him with a slight twist. "Do remember that I'm a Slytherin, not a Hufflepuff."

"I ought to spank you for playing me like that." Harry shook his head disparagingly, but the quirk of his lips and twinkle in his eye let Draco know he wasn't serious. Thankfully. As he didn't think his arse could hand another that day. On another day however...

"Mmmm...perhaps later," Draco purred, voicing his thoughts, and delighted in the pink spreading across Harry's cheeks as he reached for his own towel, hastily scrubbing off and wrapping it around his waist. Draco wrapped his own towel around his and then sauntered towards their lockers to dress, taunting over his shoulder, "right now, I have a celebration to attend," and then chuckled when the Harry grumbled under his breath at that reminder, still smarting over Draco's win.

"Run along like a good boy then," Harry snarked, patting Draco condescendingly on the arse, making him whirl around with a mock frown.

"You did not just pat me on my ass, Potter," Draco choked out, slightly indignant.

"Oh, I think I just did," Harry mocked, grinning unrepentantly as he sauntered past.

"You'll pay for that..." Draco vowed, his eyes following the subtle shake of Harry's hips as he made his way to Gryffindor row, licking his lips as he mentally planned their next tryst and when he could get his hands on that delectable arse.

"Promises, promises..." Harry lofted with a smug grin, waving him off without concern as he turned down the aisle. "Now run along; your public awaits."

Draco narrowed his eyes as he watched the raven disappear, a slow, sly grin spreading across his face as he began to plot his lover's imminent downfall. So, Harry liked the idea of being bound...well, lucky for him, having Harry tied up and at Draco's mercy had long been a favoured fantasy and he had no qualms in setting that particular scenario into motion. It would only take some strategic manoeuvering; and with the Weasel spending nearly as much time in the Head Girl's room as he did in his own, infiltrating Harry's dorm would be a snap.

Turning on his heel, Draco slipped into his favourite mode of stealth and intrigue, planning out each step meticulously as he dressed and prepared for his team celebration. And if this didn't make the Gryffindor his for life, he'd willingly admit to defeat and just take whatever Harry had to offer, for as long as he were willing to share his life and time.


End file.
